Lapsus
by imadoodlenoodle
Summary: A lapsus is an involuntary mistake made while writing or speaking. According to Freud's early psychoanalytic theory, a lapsus represents a missed deed that hides an unconscious desire. A collection of 100 drabbles, mainly DG. COMPLETE!
1. I : New

**I : New**

She didn't know why she accepted his offer of dinner. Maybe it was because he was nice for once. Maybe it was the fact that the rest of her day had been a whirlwind of emotions; anger, sadness, impatience, but most of all envy. Passed over for promotion, when she was better for the job, when all she had done was upset too many people with connections. So, she couldn't be blamed for accepting an offer of dinner when her day had been the pits and Malfoy was _nice_. No-one was nice in the Ministry at the moment, after the budget cuts and job losses, but Malfoy was.

And truth be told, after his father left the public eye and stood aside for his heir, Malfoy had came into his own. Setting up new businesses, running his estate will care and generally being a respected member of the community. Something which surprised many: especially those who attended school with him.

So they went to dinner, and although she didn't want to admit it, she had fun. He was the perfect gentleman at first, but as the evening passed he seemed to relax, his tension smoothly melting away, leaving her dining with a man with a smooth but then sharp tongue, a man who wasn't afraid to debate – nay, argue – with her.

Of course he wanted to pick up the bill, but her stubborn pride wouldn't let him. Unfortunately, the restaurant he had chosen wasn't for people like her who watched every galleon. The menu hadn't had the prices listed, so all she could do was pick what she would thought were the cheaper things. Either she didn't choose well or everything was over-priced as she blanched when she saw what she would have to put up.

She lied to herself, saying he didn't see her cheeks pale slightly, and her nervous habit of biting her bottom lip, resurface.

But she paid her half, and thanked him for dinner – even though she argued him into letting her pay half – and left quickly before he had the chance to say something an ruin the evening.

She had thought that was it, but then an owl arrived with another invitation and their interaction grew. Until Ginny found herself walking down an aisle, to accept Malfoy as her husband, to answer an invitation to dine with him every night. An invitation she accepted.


	2. II : Broken

**II : Broken**

"She's going to kill me." Draco looked up from the pile of charred ashes that dirtied the floor.

"She's not going to kill you, you're over reacting," Blaise replied calmly, although the sudden appearance of a worry line in the middle of his forehead betrayed his real feelings.

They were the only people around on the fourth floor Charms corridor, everyone else being at dinner. All Draco had to do was accept Ginny's Christmas presents from the family owl and deliver them, into her arms, once she had finished at practice.

That plan had been shot to pieces though, when one of Blaise's charms had gone awry, and instead of lightening Draco's load, it had instead set it alight.

They had luckily been able to save all but one present – something which Draco believed was the Weasley family jumper because it was the one thing that should have, but wasn't, it the pile of presents.

The two boys said nothing, and starred at the pile, both trying to think of a way out of their predicament.

"I'm going to blame you," Draco said with determination.

Blaise merely sighed and Draco realised how flimsy his idea was. Ginny would never let a slight thing such as it not being his fault get in the way of a chance for her to berate him.

"You could always - no, no, it's a stupid idea . . ." Blaise said, letting the idea trail away and leaving it up to Draco's desperation to decide if it was a good idea to ask what Blaise had thought of.

Desperation won over common sense and Draco demanded to know of his friend's plan.

"You could always knit her a new one."

"That's a stupid idea," Draco snapped, fully intending to take out more of his frustration on his friend, but a chime from his watch stopped him in his tracks. "It's half past. Ginny finishes in thirty minutes." He closed his eyes and fell back against the wall. "Our first Christmas and I – _you _– set her presents on fire."

He turned his head to face Blaise. "Do you know how to knit?"

This was how Ginny ended up with two jumpers that year; one from her mother who had forgotten to send the jumper with the other presents, and one from Draco. A desperation driven attempt of a jumper he was secretly proud of.

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**Broken, charred it's all the same. **

**If I had more time I'd probably redo this one but I don't so I can't. :(**

**I think the next one's going to be more angst-y.**

**Thank you for the reivews on the last drabble . . . I have just realised that I'm going to be writing around 1000 reivews in the next 100 days. **


	3. III : Hope

**III : Hope**

Constant waiting.

It is the same every night. You sit in the living room watching the hands on the clock tick on, watching and waiting.

He's told you to not wait up after him, that when he comes back he'll be dirty; usually with the musk of smoke desperately hanging on to his clothes, he'll be bloodied; usually with someone else's blood, sometimes his own, and he'll be tired; and with the tiredness will come annoyance, anger at the slightest thing.

So although you're on two different sides of the war, even though you are married to a Dark wizard who is out causing mayhem, terror and pain, and they are married to a Light wizard who is out trying to stop your Dark husband, you have something in common with the Light wives.

Because you are both constantly waiting for them to come home, and counting your blessings every time they do home smoky, bloodied and tired, as at least they have came home.

When their masters beckon them to join them in war, to defend, to fight and to survive, they leave you behind. Slowly, they ease themselves out of the bed, trying not to wake you, and dressed silently before placing a single kiss on your forehead and leaving. You keep your eyes shut the entire time, so neither of you has to face up to the truth that this could be the last time you see each other again. When they have left you too slip out of bed and tread carefully down the stairs to take up your position. While they are out fighting, you are at home waiting and hoping that tonight is not the night they don't return.

Constant waiting.

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Thank you for all the reivews.

If I had to name this character I would say Narcissa, but it really could be any wife whose husband's gone off to fight.

[FFN is being prissy and won't centre the title, which is really annoying.]


	4. IV : Quills

** IV : Quills**

She picks up her quill and gently dips it into the ornate glass inkwell on her right. Bringing it back to her sheet of parchment she hesitates for a moment before pressing on with determination.

_Harry_, she writes, _I have been having an affair for four months. It was just after the funeral, when I disappeared for awhile. I found myself in a dingy bar. It sounds so torrid, I got drunk and slept with him. He was, refreshing, different to us. He was nothing like our life so I was able to forget about everything when I was with him. _

_I am ashamed to say it. I am not strong like you, you've tried to accept the death of our child; I chose the route of trying to pretend it never happened. _

_He allowed me to be this person who had never suffered any hardship, any pain. _

_I like this person he lets me be, but I also _hate_ her. She is weak and fragile and not the sort of person I wish to be. _

_He's asking me if I would leave you, if I would take up a life with him . . . living this simple and frivolous life. _

_I can't say yes to him without telling you the truth about why, nor can I say no to him without baring all – you are not a consolation prize, you deserve to know. _

_I'm going to stay with Charlie in Romania for a while; everyone else has commitments, whereas with him I wouldn't be in the way. _

_I- I'm not sure about what I should do. I need _you_ to tell me. I'm at a time on my life where I could be happy with both of you, as long as you are happy with me. _

_I'll be back in England for mum's birthday party, so you have four months to decide if you can still live with me after all this. _

_Everyone will think I'm abroad studying the culture of dragons and their keepers, if you could keep up the charade it would be helpful. _

_Letters can reach me if you want to send me any. _

_I _am_ sorry Harry. _

_Ginny Potter, nee Weasley. _

She wipes of the last hint of ink and replaces the quill in its holder. Knowing that her husband will find the note when he returns from work, she leaves it where it lies.

She knows it's cowardly of her to leave a note and not talk to him, but this feels like the only way she can really do this.

Grasping hold of the suitcase she has left next to the Floo she catches sight of one of the many photographs of herself and Harry. She picks it up and, without giving herself time to think about it, slips it into one of the suitcase pockets.

It's the first letter she has written in a long time and it could be the one that ends her marriage. Strangely enough though, she leaves her home feeling lighter than she has for a long time.

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**Thank you for the reviews.**

**I'm not too sure on this one.**


	5. V : Doorway

**V : Doorway **

If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then the mouth was the doorway to the heart. At least that's what she thought as she was pushed roughly back against the wall and Draco Malfoy reclaimed her lips.

They'd been making their way from the dining room to the bedroom now for over ten minutes, stopping against every flat surface to act on their lust. She didn't know why he didn't just fuck her at the table. After being tempted into sitting in his lap and letting him feed her dessert, and after forgetting entirely about being a lady and letting him run his hands under her skirt and into her pants she wasn't exactly going to say no to him.

She shuddered as the memory of his cool fingers gliding over her clit resurfaced, her sudden movement causing Draco to bite down on her tongue. She winced, but could not help enjoying the dangerous mix of pain and pleasure.

She allowed him to pull away from her and drag her down the corridor to their room.

Falling back onto the bed she stared hungrily at Draco, silently willing him to move quicker. He complied and fell on top of her in moments. Greedily tasting his lips, Ginny ripped his shirt open and ran her hands up and down his bare, smooth chest.

Draco copied her movements, and slid a hand under her shirt, pausing only for a second when her reached her breasts and found she wore no bra. His eyes caught hers and she inwardly smirked as they darkened with desire.

She could only imagine what she looked like as Draco's fingers grazed one of her nipples before twisting it sharply. She released a gasp that couldn't be described as being pain or pleasure, but both, and he laughed before taking her mouth again.

As his tongue gained hold of her mouth his hands continued to rub, tease and pinch her heated body and Ginny was glad she had found Draco Malfoy, a man who knew how to mix the pain and the pleasure.

A man with a sinfully skilful mouth.

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**Thank you for the reviews. **

**This was my first time at writing something like this, so apologies if it's slightly awkward.**


	6. VI : Breathless

**VI : Breathless**

She shifts her weight and leans over him, resting her hands against the headboard to steady herself. Smiling at him, she allows her head to descend towards his but painstakingly slowly. Neither of them is breathing, their breath is waiting, caught up in this moment.

He gazes into her eyes feeling his own desire build as he watches the lust in hers blossom from a shadow into something he cannot look away from.

Her lips whisper across his and the first pang of impatience flashes through him. He frowns, but it is smoothed away when he catches sight of the twist in her lips, turning them from the rich, plump mouth he so greedily wishes to consume, into teasing and mocking lines. His desire only makes her move slower.

She dips her head back down and again, only grazes his mouth. This time though he keeps his face expressionless - except for the thirst that couldn't be hidden even if he wants to.

She hovers just millimetres above his face, tempting him with her presence, and he knows that he can't do this any longer. The need to hold her, taste her and release all his restrained urges consume his usually rational mind and without warning his pushes himself and grasps hold of her mouth before she has a chance to pull back.

His teeth catch hold of her lower lip and he tugs her back down to his level, never once releasing her. He strains against the scarves holding his arms back, wanting to be rid of them so he can take hold of her and be the one in control.

She realises that today is not the day when she will dominate him completely, and loosens the knots. As he grabs her wrists she accepts her loss and allows him to take control again, quickly falling from her position of dominance to one of submission below him.

He looks down at her and is torn between making her wait and satisfying himself. In the end he places revenge last and his own pleasure first, taking hold of her mouth with his own and possessing it entirely, as is his way, leaving them both, once again, breathless.

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**Thanks again. **


	7. VII : Pain

**VII : Pain**

He casually fingers the whip and the twisted smirk on his face broadens as he watches her reaction. She tenses up uncontrollably and her head desperately starts shaking, her mouth moving but voicing no words, only fearful moans reverberating from her throat. He steps closer towards her and she tries to extend the closing distance, but her bonds hold her in place.

"Come come, Ginny, why do you shy away from me? I thought you liked my toys. I certainly enjoy playing with them. And you."

Her scared moans only increase as the space between them is closed.

He lifts the handle of the whip to her face and she flinches away, straining against the ropes that allow her no freedom. Bringing his free hand up to her face, he gently caresses her cheek. For a moment she is stunned by this sudden soft touch, something so alien to her since she has been under his care, but just as quickly the touch is removed and Ginny's surprised is mutated into pain as the hand that once caressed is draw back and strikes down.

She gasps turns her eyes upwards, silently begging for release.

He takes hold of her head once more and pushes the handle hard against her skin before dragging it down, leaving a large red mark in its wake.

Growing bored of mere threats, he unrolls the whip letting it fall like a viper to the floor.

"Do you know that you're my favourite Ginny? I love the way your plump cream skin is highlighted by the rivers of blood that slink down your body, and seeing your body turn against you, to see you unable to stop yourself from peaking when I touch you. . . . Oh Ginny, why did you have to be on the wrong side? We could have had so many hedonistic times. Why did you have to ruin it all Ginny? Why are you so delectable and unattainable?" he pauses in his musings, and presses himself against her prone body. "You're a tease Ginny . . . I don't like teases." He pulls away and his face hardens; all traces of emotion gone.

His grip on the handle tightens and he feels secure, content, he knows these steps.

"Shall we count them Ginny?" he cries, for a brief moment a perverted joy crosses his face. "Shall we Ginny?"

She bows her head. "Yes Draco," she whispers, "we'll count."

"One," she counts softly and acceptingly, and waits for the lightening crack to flash down upon her back.

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**It's obvious what inspired this . . . **


	8. VIII : Test

**VIII : Test**

_Casual eyes hide determination,_

_Hidden away beneath the surface._

_But twisted smiles lie on the face,_

_Betraying the truth this test requires concentration. _

_She chops the leaves thinly,_

_Almost cutting her fingers off._

_She goes to swear, but covers it with a cough,_

_Well aware he heard it clearly. _

_The potion is rosy and boiling with delight,_

_And she knows it's almost finished._

_She hopes her score is not diminished,_

_But the fact she set her teacher alight, _

_Means it's too much to hope for. _

_Crap._

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**How did you like my poetry? **

***laughs* For me this challenge is all about trying things I haven't done before and having some fun. Hence the poem. **

**Thanks for all the reviews. **

**[If you need me to tell you what was going on, just let me know - I'll understand.]**


	9. IX : Drink

**IX : Drink**

The magic used to heat up her veins, surging through her, lighting her up from the inside.

Not anymore.

The flowers used to look so bright; the red ones were like fire, dotted across fields, making her pause and admire their beauty.

Not anymore.

The water used to run down her body, making her feel refreshed, clean, new.

Not anymore.

The noises of children running down the corridor used to bring a smile to her face as she heard their laughs, arguments and gossip.

Not anymore.

The food used to land on her tongue, exploding with flavours and making every morsel one to be savoured.

Not anymore.

Now she is muted, the magic still there but trudging through her body, the heat has been extinguished.

Now the flowers are mere colours, dull and without purpose.

Now the water is just water, washing away the dirt of any other day.

Now the noise of the children is an annoyance, stirring her from her naps and rousing her from her stupor.

Now the food is bland and forgetful, she hardly eats now, only enough to get by.

She knows what is to blame, and she knows she has to stop, but every time she takes a drink, she drinks 'til the last drop.

It has a hold over her, and the memories of the magic, the flowers, the water, the children and the food is not enough to break its hold and give her back her joys.

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So, this was Trelawney . . . I like to think that she wasn't always a tottering drunk.

Thank you for all the reviews on the last chapter.


	10. X : Anger

**X : Anger**

I suppose I was naive to think that you would give it all up; the money, the parties, the holidays, the _lifestyle._

But I thought you would. For us.

For me.

I wish we could go back to the days when you were able to tell me you loved me, back to the days when the only consequence of us being together was your father's disapproval.

Back to when we were happy.

When I was.

When you left I couldn't feel. I had given you everything, and when you left you took it all with you.

Slowly though, ever so slowly, the emotions started slinking back.

Pain was the first. It kept me up at night, refusing to let me sleep. Even when it did it caused dreams of you. Taunting me, going over that afternoon, over and over, until I was glad that sleep no longer came to me.

People cannot survive on pain forever though, and it ebbed away, still there but not the main thing I was feeling. No, pain had subsided so anger could take its place.

Anger, rage, fury all directed towards you.

This is the feeling that wants to curse you, hurt you – making you hurt as much as you made me hurt.

But I can keep it in control, in memory of what we were.

For what you were.

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**I realised I was starting to drop behind, (I think I was anyway), so I had to get something up.**

**I dislike this one vehemently, so don't review and we'll pretend it never happened.**

**Deal? **


	11. XI : Dreams

**XI : Dreams**

"Mr Malfoy," she whispered huskily, "I never expected to find you here." Leaning into him she watched his eyes as they wear drawn to her chest. Inwardly smirking, Ginny congratulated her choice of dress, low enough to catch attention whilst still leaving something to the imagination.

"Ginevra, of course you expected to see me here. You have, after all, been tracking me for awhile now," he replied, reaching past her for his drink.

She caught a hint of his scent as he leaned over her and it momentarily broke her panic.

"How?" she asked simply, bidding her time, looking for a chance to escape. As if he knew her thoughts, Draco wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

"Ginny, Ginny, Ginny," he taunted her quietly, "you're good, but still not good enough. Now, you've spent so much time and energy trying to trap me and I've equally spent a lot of money trying to escape you."

Taking a sip from his drink he paused for a moment before continuing; "So I do believe you owe me something for all the problems you've caused."

Knowing it was wrong, but wanting to so much, Ginny ignored the rational side of her which knew she would be fired if anyone found out. Allowing Draco to pull her up out of the booth, and walk her to the elevator she put aside her job and gave into the moment.

As soon as the lift doors closed behind them, Draco pushed her against the wall and crashed into her. Their tongues mingled together, and blindly snaking a hand under her dress Draco quickly found her underwear and began tugging them down. Ginny ran her hands through his hair, grasping hold of it with one hand while raking the other down his back.

_Ping!_

The scene dissolved and Draco's hands disappeared with it.

"Ginny?" a voice to her side mumbled. "It's feeding time."

Unwillingly opening her eyes, Ginny turned to her husband. "It's your turn," she weakly accused.

"Ginny, I have training in the morning; I have to be up early. Can't you just do it please?"

"Fine Harry."

Leaving the bed Ginny padded down the hallway to her son's room, her dream quickly leaving her mind until it had never existed.

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**The dream is jittery, mainly because I think dreams are quite jumpy. There's no build up there because, well, things just _happen_ in dreams, don't they? **


	12. XII : Puzzle

**XII : Puzzle**

"Ginny!" Draco was leaning against the stair banister yelling up to his wife, who was currently doing something. He wasn't sure what she was doing, all he knew was that he had been ordered to stay downstairs with their son, and out of her way.

A loud bang was heard followed by a flomp. Finally Draco heard a door opened and his wife's flustered face appeared over the top of the staircase.

"What?" she called down; obviously distracted.

"We've got to show you something," Draco said patiently, curiosity growing as he caught sight of Ginny's dishevelled attire.

Sighing, Ginny padded down the stairs and followed Draco into the living-room.

When they reached their young son Draco stopped and pointed at him proudly.

Not bothering to hide her confusion, Ginny asked; "What Draco?"

"He's completed that stupid Muggle puzzle you got him!"

Ginny turned to Draco, a small - yet confused - smile on her face. "And . . . ?"

"It only took him six months!" Draco exclaimed, his proud face beaming at her. He bent down and picked the boy up, almost showcasing him.

"Draco, I still don't under-"

"- The box say two to four years on it, our son's a genius!"

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Don't ask.


	13. XIII : Discrepant

**XIII : Discrepant**

"I love you," she whispered, running her hand down the side of his cheek and gently pulling him closer.

_I hate you._

"Mm, love you too." He allowed himself to be pulled closer while wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her tightly.

"I love it when you hold me, don't let go," she carried on in her hushed voice.

_I hate your touches, your caresses, your slimy hands grasping, holding, tainting. _

"Never," he agreed, tightening his grip in compliance with his words.

"Do you want to go out to the beach? Go for a swim?" she asked, flipping her coppery hair over her shoulder before pulling it up into a messy bun.

_We'll go to the beach, and we'll swim, but I'll ensure you don't leave the water._

"I prefer your hair down," he whined, tugging at the toggle.

She batted his hands away, almost allowing her loving mask to crack. In time though, she smothered over the irritation and smiled teasingly. "How about I left you pulling it down when we're in the water?"

_I'll pull you down into the water and hold you there._

"Why can't your hair come down now?"

"Because I don't like it around my face. I'm sure you'll agree it shouldn't be hidden," she smiled down at him.

_Because then you'll have something to hold on to._

Draco smiled in return and rested his head against her chest. "I'm glad you forgave me. I'm sorry," he paused, battling the lump in his throat, "I'm sorry he died. I never wanted that to happen. I couldn't believe you came back to me, without you I couldn't breathe.

"I love you Draco Malfoy, I forgave you and I will stay with you." She shuddered. "I hate the fact you didn't save him.

_I hate you Draco Malfoy, I'll never forgive you and I will leave you; permanently. I hate the fact you didn't save him._

"To the beach then?" he reiterated.

"To the water," she agreed.

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If you need the one explained, just let me know, should be fairly obvious though.


	14. XIV : Holiday

**XIV : Holiday**

Draco turned to Ginny and glared. She in turn glared back before hotly answering his glare: "It's not my fault!"

Draco narrowed his eyes.

"I've never been outside England, and then I've spent the last seven years in Scotland, at school!"

Draco quirked an eyebrow at her weak excuse.

"I would have thought you'd realise, I thought you went all over the world!" she accused, deciding the best defensive was going on the offence. She folded her arms and looked away. "At least the scenery is pleasant."

"My family don't loll about; we go to museums, landmarks, _places of interest_," Draco curtly replied, before picking up his drink that had just been delivered. He looked with disgust at the bright, tropical blue drink, complete with a cheap tacky paper umbrella with a cherry tacked onto the bottom of it.

"Am I supposed to drink this?" he asked, taking a ginger sniff at the concoction.

"Yes, it's a drink Draco."

"It's bright blue," he pointed out.

"Pumpkin juice is bright orange," Ginny retorted with.

Draco regarded her for a moment, "Yes Ginny, but pumpkin juice is made from orange pumpkins. What bright blue fruit do you know of?

Ginny frowned and went to pull the drink away from him, Draco resisted though and the cocktail spilt over Ginny, slashing her pale skin with droplets of bright blue.

"Draco!" Ginny cried, caught off guard, "I know you don't like this but can you stop trying to find fault with everything! This is our first holiday, _my_ first holiday abroad. Stop trying to ruin it." She hastily grabbed one of the napkins that arrived with their lunch and mopped herself up.

She was expecting Draco to be apologetic, and was surprised therefore, by his testy reply. "Ginny, we are on this forsaken island for another ten days; in those ten days it is only going to get hotter. Have you seen my skin Ginny? Seen yours? We aren't made for the beach! Your red skin clashed horribly with your hair, and I think I looked the ugliest I've ever been. We looked like a pair of lobsters. _Lobsters_. So for ten more days we have to hide in the shade watching everyone else running around and tanning. What else can we do?"

Ginny blinked, she wasn't aware how stir crazy Draco was. "We could spend the days in the bedroom?" she offered.

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This was originally going to be a Dirty Santa and his Semi-Naked Elf, but I wasn't in the mood to write it. It was then going to be Cowboy!Draco, on a themed holiday in America but it wouldn't write. So you can imagine those yourself.

This one came about because I just noticed I have freckles 'round my neck, that usually happens after I've spent time in the sun. So, just throwing that titbit out there.


	15. XV : Mirrors

**XV : Mirror**

"This is _so_ weird." Ginny stared at herself in the mirror, running a hand over her body, feeling the new shapes, bumps and textures.

"You're telling me," Daphne said, coming up behind Ginny and peering over her shoulder. "You look great though. I like your legs . . . and you chest is massive may I say?"

Ginny laughed, "I would say stop eyeing me up, but that doesn't really work, does it?"

Daphne smiled and took Ginny's hand in hers. "I'm glad you like to experiment." She rested her head on Ginny's shoulder.

"Daphne, how long will the Polyjuice last?"

"Mm . . . three days," Daphne ran her hand up Ginny's – though it looked like hers- body. "Man, I am _hot_."

"Daphne! Seriously?"

"What?" Daphne asked, playfully. "I can look at my body in a mirror any time I want, but to actually stand here, _feeling_ it . . . it's a completely new experience." Daphne smirked. "Anyway, it's not like you're not getting anything out of it."

Ginny felt her face heat, an unwelcome side-effect of her crush.

"Three whole days in the Slytherin life . . . three whole days with Draco Malfoy."

"And you'll have three days with Dean Thomas."

Daphne grinned. "Remind me, you don't mind me besmirching your honour, do you?"

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**This is another one we're going to ignore.**


	16. XVI : Seeking Peace

**XVI : Seeking Peace**

**WANTED**

_Professional and experienced – single – lady required for full time engagement. Duties shall consist of mild household chores, household management, and mother's assistant._

_The two children, twins, aged five would be under your full time supervision and you would be expected to prepare them for schooling, take care of their day-to-day needs and watch over them. _

_The children are well-behaved . . ._

"You can't lie!"

_. . . quiet . . . _

"Draco!"

_. . . and eager to learn . . ._

" . . . They set their last governess on fire!"

Draco set down his quill and turned to face Ginny. "Ginny, I'm doing this for us. Our children are _monsters_ and we need help. Or at least someone to pass them off to. Accept it Ginny, they're like your brothers. We've spawned demon children. "

Ginny lent over Draco and picked up the quill and quickly added;

_Applicants may apply immediately; please forward responses along with a CV and three letters of recommendation._

"It's for the best," Draco commented, leaning back and relaxing in his chair.

"I know, it's just-" Ginny was cut off by a sudden, loud bang. She shared a look with Draco before they both rushed out of the library.

"We didn't do nothing! Honest!"

"Draco? Send the advert out tonight."

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**Thank you for the reviews, I'm not answering all reviews now, just ones that need a reply to an answer or if you review a crazy number of drabbles at a time. **


	17. XVII : Questioning

**XVII : Questioning**

"She can't take away the Quibbler!" George was currently standing tall up on one of the common room tables, Fred standing at his feet, handing out flyers. The duo had attracted a crowd quickly, and not only Gryffindors. Gryffindor had became the most out-spoken house against Dolores Umbridge's education edicts and whenever anyone wanted to complain there was always someone in the common room who would join in. So the crowd surrounding the twins was not only made up of Gryffindors, but Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. The only house not represented was the Slytherin house. Even if they wanted to join in, no sane Gryffindor would let them in the Gryffindor stronghold.

"Are you sick of the Ministry's lies? Feed to us by their pet paper, the Prophet!" George had been hollering his anti-Ministry, anti-Prophet lines for a while now, and more and more people were starting to agree with him.

Mutters of 'yeah' and 'too right' started sprouting up around the room, growing with volume with each passing minute. Chairs and tables were pushed back, out of the way, so more people could crowd round. When space became tight, people started clambering on chairs, perching on tables, and overfilling the staircases and balconies.

"It'd be nice if they could tell us the truth, instead of telling us Harry's crazy!" Fred pointed out, his words taken up by parts of the gathering; "Tell us the truth! Tell us the truth!"

George held up his arms and the room quietened down. Tension fizzled through the air, for many of them this was their first big rebellion and it felt alive.

"We're not brainwashed! We aren't going to listen to them anymore," George declared.

By now all of Fred's flyers had gone, and were eagerly being read and past on.

"What are we going to do?" Someone yelled out, from the back of the room.

"We're gonna save the Quibbler from the Ministry's reach! C'mon, make your voice heard, get on your feet!" George's voice held none of its usual joking tone, he was completely serious now and that only caused rushing feelings of empowerment amongst the students.

"We lose our power when we lose our voice!" Fred offered, clambering up and joining his brother on the table. "You can't let Dolores Umbridge make your choice!"

Cheers rang out around the room, and voices babbled away. Fred and George were about to drop down from the table and work the crowd when the portrait door swung open to reveal the High Inquisitor herself.

"What is going on here?" she asked shrilly, entering the room and casting glares around.

People turned to George and Fred, who shared only a moment's look before yelling; "Save the Quibbler!" and leaping off the table.

The call was taken up again, filling the space with rebellion. Umbridge tried – and failed – to stop the students, and her actions only caused to intensify the students. They streamed past her and out into the halls of Hogwarts.

Soon the cry could be heard throughout, taken up by students, paintings, ghosts (who always love a bit of rebellion) and Peeves.

The rebellion was out of Gryffindor and into Hogwarts.

_Save the Quibbler . . ._

_Save the Quibbler . . . _

_From the Ministry . . ._

* * *

**This was inspired _heavily_ from the song _Save the Quibbler_ by Gred and Forge. So much so that I fully disclaim that most of the dialogue isn't mine.**

**To see the song go here : .com/watch?v=ZvGmjZn3KUA&NR=1**

**Wrock Rocks!**


	18. XVIII : Red

**XVIII : Red**

Attraction: He catches your eye as he walks by, and you can't help holding it. He raises a questioning eyebrow before winking at you and turning away. You can't help the smile on your face.

Lust: Comes before love. Lots and lots of times.

Stop: "He's a Malfoy! A Malfoy is tainting my sister!" "No, A Malfoy is _dating_ your sister."

Blood: Is no longer more important than her.

Danger: "I turned the Dark Lord down. He'll want me dead now, and a war is an easy time to kill somebody."

Good Luck: Is what the graduating class is wished. In the midst of war, it's not a token remark, but a heartfelt hope.

Courage: "I'll be back before the sun rises," he promises, squeezing your hand before releasing it and leaving. You want to run after him and stop him, but he's asked you to stay here. To stay strong.

Guilt: "I should have told you before now, I shouldn't have let you go thinking that I didn't . . . that I didn't love you."

Anger: The feeling that pulsed through you when you heard his report; "They have Ginny; she's been taken to a stronghold."

Aggression: "If you don't release my girlfriend right now I will destroy you." "O Draco, I didn't know you felt that strongly." "Believe it."

Hatred: Is what you feel as you kill him.

Devil: Finally killed by the spectacled git.

Warning: Told not to call him a spectacled git.

Passion: Draco Malfoy grabbing hold of you and ravishing you on the table after you tantalisingly ate your dessert opposite him.

Valentine's Day: Is spent doing corny couple-y things. Like going out to dinner and being proposed to.

Love: What Draco Malfoy promised to do for the rest of his life.

Energy: Not leaving the honeymoon suite for two days; and only then to find more places to, enjoy.

Pain: Rippling through every muscle, and shared by the man holding your hand. "We are never having sex again Draco Malfoy!"

Christmas: When you announce to your husband you're pregnant again.

Beauty: Your daughter.

Purity: Of said daughter, shall be guarded until she's twenty-five.

Violence: Is almost had when a boy tries to sneak into her bedroom.

Error: When you find out it's the son's boyfriend.

Sacrifice: When your son admits it was him who broke your mother-in-law's ugly vase.

Negativity: Towards appalling poor Potion scores. "Are we sure he's really a Malfoy?"

Fire: What you're in when you question your wife's favourite son. "Ginny, he's our only son."

Emergency: When you find out there's been a Quidditch accident and you both rush to Hogwarts Infirmary.

Blushing: Is the bride you lead down the aisle.

Exit: You're home is finally quiet and empty after both children have grown up and moved out.

Failure: Forgetting to change the wards so they came still come back. Which they do. Too often.

Heat: Which one of your children must be in, as she constantly produces more and more grandchildren for you to spoil.

Bullfighting: Is the occupation of your son's current fling, Juan. You can't wait for him to stop acting like his father, working his way through the population, and settle down.

Happiness: Was what your lives were filled with. Mostly.

* * *

**I enjoyed writing this one, though I understand it may be a bit hard to wrap your head around, [in which case, ask me to explain :P].**

**I've been wanting to do something like this for a while.**

**_And _it works with the prompt. **

**Which is always a bonus.**

**Thanks for the reviews. ^_^**


	19. XIX : Happiness

**XIX : Happiness**

Sadness is your long-term boyfriend breaking up with you; rain when you've just had a haircut; realising that you don't enjoy your job.

Happiness is finding out that a new book by your favourite author's been released; eating chocolate cake and not feeling guilt; lying in the sunshine talking to friends. Happiness is finding a new boyfriend who spoils you; dancing in the rain with someone who – at first – didn't want to dance; finding a new job you love.

Pure happiness is your long-term boyfriend becoming your fiancé; moving into a new home and decorating it your way; your family finally accepting the man you've accepted.

Pure happiness is found when everything is right.

* * *

**Happiness is not having to read Sarah's crappy drabble, no?**

**This was a five minute mad dash, I'm trying not to fall behind (any more than I am). **

**And seriously? What a rubbish prompt. **


	20. XX : Family

**XX : Family**

"Bill put that cigarette out, I've already warned you about that already! Charlie stand up straight, yes, yes, stand next to Bill. Percy, yes, yes stand on the other side of your father, perfect, perfect. Ron, in front of Percy please, let go of Ginny's hair! Arthur? Arthur! Get back into position! Now then, right, are we ready- Fred? George? Percy, where did they go? I _told _you to keep an eye on them! Now I'm going to have to-"

The photographer filtered out the rest of Molly's rant. After being the Weasley's photographer for the past two decades he had became well used to the trials of arranging the family, and the trouble of keeping them in place.

Nevertheless, every year they left with a family portrait, one that represented them.

Molly: looking exasperated.

Arthur: looking lost.

Bill: looking cool.

Charlie: looking rebellious.

Percy: looking prim.

Fred: looking devious.

George: looking artful.

Ron: looking sullen.

Ginny: looking inflamed.

* * *

**Eh. **

**By the way, the last drabble was weak, as is this one . . . sorry?**

**Also, Kim: _I want to know what love is . . . _**


	21. XXI : Divorce

Divorce

Blaise signed the last form with a flourish, looking up to the woman across from him with unrestrained smugness.

She reached across and pulled the document towards her with a bitter smile. Scribbling her signature, she pressed hard against the parchment; almost unbelieving that she was doing this.

"So, that's it then," she said, glancing up and meeting his eyes.

"Yes, four months and thirteen days of marriage all over. It's been fun Marie." With that Blaise rose out of his chair and, in one fluid movement, walked away, leaving the room.

Marie let out a sob she had been holding back and brought her hands up to her face, to hide the burning tears that streamed down her face.

~X~

Outside Blaise was met by Draco Malfoy.

"It's all done?" he asked, not expecting a negative answer.

"Yep."

The two proceeded down the street in silence where, at the end, they were met by a red headed woman.

The silence was soon broken by her tired disappointment.

"Another wife Blaise? Honestly, I don't know why you do it, personally I-"

Blaise shared a look with Draco, silently begging him to quiet his wife. Draco merely smiled and allowed his wife to continue.

Glaring at him, Blaise felt annoyance boiling up. Every time his wives' started getting on his nerves he got rid of them, why couldn't Draco do the same? True, Ginny got on his nerves, not Draco's, but he was his best friend; he ought to consider his feelings.

"Ginny, it was either divorce or I follow my mother's example. Which would please you more?"

* * *

**Thanks for the reviews on the last drabble.**

**Kim, _Now I've had the time of my life_  
**


	22. XXII : Flying

**XXII : Flying**

Stretched out across their brooms, they were no longer sitting up but leant out, using only skill and courage to stay on. They glided through the curve, his hand resting on her stomach as they leaned in together, so close their brooms almost touching.

He released her as they came out of the curve, allowing her to drift away slightly. Following her lead he arched backwards bringing his broom up, being lead into the skies.

She looked over her shoulder down to him and smiled. With one hand wrapped tightly around the head of the broom, she extended her arm, her hand welcoming his. Increasing his speed he levelled with her and reached out with his own hand.

Joined together they climbed and climbed, hitting the warm summer high winds. There they came to a stop and rested on the winds, floating along with them.

Looking down she could see the rough outline of the castle and the patch of green that was the field.

Neither of them had flew so high before, she wasn't sure if anyone had before.

They stayed for as long as they could, just looking out at the country around them. Soon, too soon, the thin air became too much and they drifted down.

He watched her as she descended, waiting for her to turn his way. When she did he held her eyes, his intention clearly written on his face.

She pulled into him and for a moment they were face to face, falling to Earth without a word.

Then she twisted and they were two spiralling shapes, directed at the Earth with speed, yet still, no words.

* * *

**I'd say thanks for the reivews for the last chapter, but these two were posted too close together. Anywho, thnaks for the future reviews on the last chapter.**

**This one was written so Leigh wouldn't be ahead of me. **


	23. XXIII : Drowning

**XXIII : Drowning**

Ginny had been exploring the Manor and two years after moving in she had still not seen every inch of the place and what it held. She and Draco had only moved into Malfoy Manor after the death of Lucius as Narcissa preferred their summer home in the south of France and now lived their fulltime, leaving the Manor to Draco, his wife, and their newborn son.

Out of the three, Ginny felt the least comfortable. This was Draco childhood home, and their son had known no other house. For her though, Malfoy Manor felt like a hotel. A place where she slept, ate and relaxed in, but never got to make her own. Her tastes didn't fit into the place with its high ceilings, large arched windows and the feeling of wealth seeping out of every wall. Her tastes were for cosy homes; like the one she had grown up in.

Through learning of what the Manor held, Ginny hoped to become more comfortable with the place.

Until then though she would feel out of place; swamped by furniture, decoration and extravagance that wasn't designed for a Weasley.

* * *

**This was going to be explaining what Ginny was doing while Draco and son were doing the puzzle but it's kind of turned into a prequel to that. **

**The drowning was going to be Ginny opening a cupboard door and being swamped by Narcissa's fur coats, so many that she was 'drowning' in them. **

**Leigh, you ought to understand this:**

_This is not the end, we've only just begun,_  
_pieces of happiness are the things that I'll miss,_  
_though I can't walk away while I'm still this afraid,_  
_this is for the one, that waits til I get home _  
_you push and pull your fate til it's all you can take,_  
_should I just stick around, would it make you happy,_  
_make you happy because_

**Thanks for reviews!**


	24. XXIV : Bed

**XXIV : Bed**

"You'll be in room number three sirs," the elderly and wizened man croaked, holding out his withered arm which held the big, brass key.

Checking the frown that threatened to show, Draco accepted the key gingerly before picking up his briefcase and small overnight bag and following the signs that directed them upstairs.

"Draco . . . this place is freaky," Theodore Nott confided, looking around the dingy and dirty foyer. His thoughts grew more negative as they began climbing the wonky and creaking stairs.

Draco's upper lip curled with disgust. "It was the only place in this forsaken area," he lowered his voice, "as if I would choose to stay here voluntarily."

On the landing they were careful not to touch the pealing walls, which were covered in burn marks and smears that looked uncannily like dried blood.

They reached their room and Draco slid the key into the lock. He went to twist the knob, but stopped at the last minute. Taking a step back he reached into his coat and withdrew a handkerchief, and used it to open the door.

Draco went in first, his fluid and graceful movements completely out of place with the decor of the room. Theodore followed behind, warily regarding the room and hitting the door shut with his foot.

"There's only one bed," Draco noted, turning to Theodore with a questioning look.

"I thought it was about time I had my wicked way with you," Theodore replied, advancing on the blond.

"About time too."

* * *

***laughs* Oh my. I don't know how _this_ happened, it was originally going to be a bed that ate whoever slept in it, I was setting that all up with the creepy night manager, but instead it's . . . this.**

**I think there ought to be a prequel to this, to at least answer why the two are in the middle of nowhere.**

**Thanks for the reviews!**


	25. XXV : Balloon

**XXV : Balloon**

Draco didn't know what he should be expecting. Ginny told him to arrive at her flat at eight o'clock sharp and wait in the living-room for her.

So, Draco was sat on the squishy sofa, his coat folded up neatly next to him and a bottle of wine resting on the coffee table.

"Ginny? Are you ready?" He couldn't open the bedroom door, Ginny's annoyed voice warned him away, she had locked the door so the surprise wouldn't be spoiled.

"Give me another minute Draco!" she shouted from behind the closed door.

Draco settled back into the sofa, and tried to imagine what she had planned. If the squeaky noises were anything to go by, he would be the recipient of a short, tight, PVC dress. Just as Draco was trying to decide what he'd prefer more, the naughty nurse or the naughty maid, Ginny's bedroom door swung open to reveal her.

Draco's mouth dropped open, this wasn't anything like he expected.

"I do believe, that you'll find something on the table which will help you," Ginny murmured, slinking towards him.

Glancing down Draco caught sight of the long, sharp needle and picked it up. Taking in Ginny one last time, Draco stood up and eagerly closed the gap between them, armed with his needle and unable to stop the grin that broke out on his face.

After all, it's not every day your girlfriend greets you wearing an outfit of balloons and gives you a pointy needle.

* * *

**Yay. **

**I've had this one in my head for a while. I like the idea but I'm not too sure it was executed well. Hmm . . .**


	26. XXVI : Compressed

**XXVI : Compressed**

The squeezing feeling is coming from all sides and his breath hastens as the panic flees through his body. Quickly, too quickly, he can't breathe, there's no air, no space to breath, no room to move and his legs are being pushed up towards his head while his head is being pushed down to his feet, and his sides are closing in on themselves and he _can't breathe_ and the feeling of pushing, compacting, _compressing_ is too much and he _can't breathe_, the pain is rippling, daggers stabbing and knifes cutting, he feels himself going crazy from the pain as it electrifies and burns and _hurts_ and still the squeezing and the darkness, no light, just darkness and nothing to see and all he can do is feel, but feeling hurts and his body is screaming for the pain to stop and for air, but he _can't breathe_ and in a moment of shocking clarity he realises that this is it, he's going to die and he doesn't even know why he's dying, all he knows is that he is in pain, so much pain, now emotional as well as physical, because he's dying and leaving him behind and he'll never get to say goodbye or whisper into his ear again how much he loves him, and he wants one last wish, he wishes that he had said it before falling asleep, instead of grumbling about the hotel, because now it's too late, now he can't breathe and it's _over_, and he wasn't able to say goodbye.

* * *

**This one is supposed to lead directly after the last, and it's not the sequel I was planning (which comes after this), but I couldn't think of anything to write for this silly prompt. **

**Kim; though the bird flies north, it's heart lies in the east, but until the shears go away, it will fly a different way.**


	27. XXVII : Reinvigorated

**XXVII : Reinvigorated**

Draco lazily opened his eyes. He would have preferred to have been woken up by birdsong and sunlight, but in this place there were no singing birds and the windows were so dirty any light would have been filtered out. Although the room was grungy, the air felt heavy and the carpet was likely to be alive, Draco still felt fresh, reinvigorated after his night's sleep. Not only was the bed comfortable, his bed-mate wasn't too bad either.

Focusing on the space next to him, Draco blinked in confusion; the space next to him was empty.

"Theo?" he called, sitting up. Taking in the room, Draco caught sight of both his and Theo's clothes still in on the floor where they had been discarded. Their wands were still on the cabinets next to them.

_He must be in the shower then_, Draco thought before listening and noticing there were no sounds – at all.

Uneasily sliding out of bed, Draco picked up his wand quietly and inched towards the partially open bathroom door.

The hair on the back of his neck rose, and the slither of panic that Draco tried hard to suppress reared its ugly head.

Tightening his hold on his wand, a spell already on his lips, Draco closed the gap between himself and the bathroom and kicked the door fully open.

It banged against the tub, revealing one half of the bathroom to be empty. Not wasting a second, Draco sprung into the room and spun on his heel, facing the bathtub.

It was empty.

Eyes wildly scanning and searching the rooms, Draco saw that both were empty. He flung open the shoddy wardrobe's door, fell down on to the floor to look under the bed, and pulled the curtains back.

All of which revealed nothing; Theodore was not in the room.

To an outsider Draco's reaction would have seen over the top. However, Draco and Theodore were not only partners in the act of coitus, but they were also partners in work; they were hit-wiz assassins, and thus trained and conditioned to _stay together_.

Theodore would not have left the room without Draco. He was either taken or . . . taken.

* * *

**To be continued in Insane. This is where this arc starts going . . . strange.**

**Thanks for the reviews, almost at two hundred! Yay.**


	28. XXVIII : Spilt Milk

**XXVIII : Spilt Milk**

"Crap!" Ginny hastily placed the jug back down on the table and grabbed one of the napkins.

"We normally put milk in the bowl, not down our fronts," Draco remarked, strolling into the room.

Ginny glared at him before returning to mopping the milk up. "The house-elf scared me; it popped up and delivered the mail."

"Did the house-elf scare you, or did the thought of wealth which the house-elf embodies scare you?"

"Shove off."

"How colloquial of you."

* * *

**I needed to write something, didn't want to get further behind. **

**Unlike some. *pointed look***

**Thanks for the reviews, over two hundred. **

**Not for the last drabble, though that would have rocked.**


	29. XXIX : Contempt

**XXIX : Contempt**

**C**onflicting, how she stares at you through plain brown eyes set in a face almost equal in plainness.

**O**rdinary you would call it, a pale circular face that becomes slightly angular towards the chin, with a nose that does not dominate and two plain brown eyes.

**N**evertheless you must admit to yourself that she does have one feature; her mouth.

**T**empting you even at this distance its rounded fullness leaves no other wish but to taste it with your own, certain that the shock it would elicit would be worth it.

**E**ach to their own some may say, but you are well aware - and assured - that she is not to be yours, even though she would gladly consent.

**M**ercy shall not be granted for you, so although she stares and you wish to stare back - perhaps even allow emotion to flash across your face for her - you can't.

**P**ride in you would be destroyed if you continued with her and your father's pride, even if it hurts you sometimes, if the thing you've desired much longer than her.

**T**hen the path you must take is simple; you have to hide your true feelings and act so unlike the man she knows that, eventually, she will forget about you and stop staring, until then though, you must meet her stare with only one expression . . .

* * *

**Oo-er, look at Sarah's thingy. It was originally one paragraph, but I didn't know how the bolding would come out.**

**I think the last sentence ran on, but it had to, otherwise the pattern would have been broken, and that couldn't be had. **

**Thankingo foro theo reviewso.**


	30. XXX : Acceptance

**XXX : Acceptance**

It was all she really wanted, she had a loving family - albeit with annoying brothers – and although they may have struggled to make some ends meet, they never struggled with love.

She didn't need anyone else but her family when she was young. Even if she had, it would have been hard to make a friend when you spend nearly all your time at home. Unable to play with Muggle children, and with only one Wizard family nearby, Ginny couldn't want anyone else but her family. If she had, she would've only been disappointed.

Slowly though, her world started crumbling slightly when her brothers started going to Hogwarts, and one by one, (until the twins when it became one by two), all her playmates left her.

Then she was alone. It was almost alright though, as there were regular letters from Percy; laying out all the twins shenanigans with every little detail and making her feel like she was almost experiencing it. From Bill and Charlie the letters weren't that regular, but they were always filled with some adventurous tale that made Ginny wish she too could sleep in a tent in the Egyptian desert or watch a dragon fly for its first time.

The year alone did go by slowly, but eventually it was her turn to go to Hogwarts. So unused to such magnificence, Ginny was blown away by her first glimpse of the castle and like most children, fell in love with her new home.

The first year was when she should have made friends who would last her throughout Hogwarts, and then after. With bad luck though, Ginny already found a friend in Tom, and didn't need any others. The overtures of friendship died away and Ginny left Hogwarts at the end of her first year with no friends at all.

Her second year was spent pining. Not only for Harry Potter, but also for a friend. Her attempts at making friends in her dorm failed swiftly and it wasn't until her third year did she summon the courage to seek friendship in other houses.

She would called Luna her first friend, though they were really thrown together as no-one else wanted them.

Soon Ginny was making plenty of friends, building her Hogwarts family, but there was never a friend she was completely herself with.

Until Draco Malfoy. The first person she could talk to about her first year, about the feeling of loneliness and life falling down around you. She supposed it was because he truly knew the feeling and when they had fully opened up to each other Ginny finally had something she had never wanted before: a best friend.

She had a loving family and a best friend, and that soon became all she wanted.

**

* * *

**

**Sickening? **

**Thanks for the reviews, I will reply to them all . . . eventually.**


	31. XXXI : City

**XXXI : City**

This was where your dreams were supposed to be made, but they never told you how they were destroyed too.

"_You'll never make it in this business!"_

"_Go back to where ever the hell you came from, and tell 'em not to send us anymore if they all look like you."_

"_Are ya serious darling? I'll give it to ya that your pretty, but you ain't tall enough – and that's the least of your problems. You cannae bear your soul to the camera, you're just a hanger. In this business you need to sell yourself and the clothes to the camera."_

"_I can get you catalogue work, certainly, but runways? International shoots? The big stuff? Out of your league honey."_

She had strayed into the Muggle world when looking for a different style. The Wizarding world was unfortunately suffering from a lack of designers and the fashion world was getting stale. Hoping to bring back ideas from the Muggle world, Lavender Brown surfed the streets, trying on clothes and posing in front of the mirror.

"_Looking good sweetheart. I think you've got potential, y'know. Here's my card, give me a call."_

She had called, but left when she found out she'd be modelling lingerie.

Although, minus the lingerie.

She loved the idea, though, being able to wear the latest clothes before everyone else, so she set off into the Muggle capital city, to be a model.

She thought it would be easy.

"_Wrong, wrong, wrong!"_

She didn't know how to pose, how she should carry herself.

_Do you even __**know **__how to look fierce?"_

She was turned away from all the big agencies.

"_Are you joking?"_

And left the city with a broken dream.

"_Hello Miss Brown, I heard you went to stay in the Muggle side, what was that for?"_

She told everyone she was just taking a look around and later that excuse worked out well.

"_May I present the designer, Miss Brown. Lavender, may I call you Lavender? Yes? Lavender, this is your first collection and it's been a roaring success. Now, it's been said that this was all inspired from your time in the Muggle world, when you went looking for inspiration. You found it alright, but tell us, how would you sum up your time there?"_

"_New dreams, Clive, new dreams."_

"_Wonderful! Now, tell us about this piece here . . . ."_

So a broken dream became a new one, and although the city gave her a dream and broke it for her, she couldn't hate it as it had given her another.

A dream made, destroyed and then re-forged. That's what the city does.

* * *

***shrugs* It's all ending so happy. **


	32. XXXII : Blue

**XXXII : Blue**

She was blue. Blueberry blue, sea blue, Hermione's only dress robes blue.

She didn't want to be blue.

She wanted to have not strayed into the path of a sudden prank, a war waged between the fourth year Gryffindors and Slytherins.

She did not want to be blue.

She wanted to have not been told that only the snog – and they were keen to empathise the word snog - of a boy in Slytherin would restore her natural skin tone.

She did not want to be blue.

She wanted to not have to find the nearest Slytherin boy and snog him senseless because she had a date in twenty minutes.

She did not want to be blue.

She wanted to not have opened her eyes and find the nearest Slytherin boy was in fact a Prefect about to tell them off.

She did not want to be blue.

She wanted to not have enjoyed the kiss.

She kinda wanted to be blue again, at least that would hide the blush.

. . . And she would get to kiss Draco Malfoy again.

* * *

**Repetition, repetition, repetition, huh?**


	33. XXXIII : Hear No Evil

**XXXIII : Hear No Evil**

Draco left the large cavernous room through the closet exit, pulling the door closed behind him. The flickering candle light lit the hall, revealing a narrow stone-walled corridor. Draco hesitated, not knowing where he was, but not wanting to go back into the other room where many of the Death Eaters were lolling about, drinking and talking. Turning round would elicit wild cat calls and Draco was still too new a recruit to curse anyone who mocked him. His father's name did protect him from most of the older Death Eater's games though.

Making up his mind, Draco tentatively followed the corridor. He had quickly learnt that the Dark Lord's latest headquarters wasn't just filled with Death Eaters and prisoners. On his very first time here, Draco had stumbled upon an entire room filled with oversized snakes, and it was only the fact that they could sense the Dark Mark on him, that saved him from their venomous attack. The next time Draco found himself somewhere he didn't know about, he chanced upon a Nundu. Luckily it was asleep, under some kind of magically enhanced sleep.

Draco wasn't sure why no-one locked the doors of these rooms, or at least put up signs.

Draco resolved to keep walking until he found something he knew and had seen before, unfortunately for his plans, as he rounded a corner he reached the end of the hall and all that was left was a slightly ajar door.

Putting apprehension aside, Draco drew closer as he heard the sound of mumbled voices.

Reaching out with a hand, Draco pushed the door open further, while drawing out his wand and holding it in front of him.

Stepping forward he noted that this new place was as dimly lit as the rest, and was still bare stone walls with dirty flagstone flooring. Lighting the tip of his wand, Draco cast it around and took in his surroundings now he could properly see them.

The ledge he was on was narrow and encased by a low stone fence. Below, Draco could make out a group of figures standing around in a lazy circle.

In the centre of the circle was a bare white body, curled up. The paleness of the skin shone brightly in the dark room, though it was slowly losing itself to the darkness as the rivets of blood marred it and darkened it.

Draco frowned for a moment before taking a step back in shock as a figure broke forward and cast a Cruciatus Curse on the prone body. Draco watched with a perverted interest as the figure spasmed and splayed.

It was the first time he had seen the curse on a human being, and the overwhelming disgust paralysed his system.

His hand clasped his ears as he tried to block out the body's screams, but they still made it through. The darkness was overpowering; hiding all his sight, his hands were numb; he couldn't feel, the smell was putrid, making the air un-breathable and the screams of pain and torment ripped through Draco's weak defences and carved themselves into his mind as evil.

* * *

**I did want it to kinda be Draco seeing Lucius doing it and that just breaking his image of his, refined (?) father. Like, he knows he's evil but doesn't want to face it?**

**Thanks for reviews.**


	34. XXXIV : Heartless

**XXXIV : Heartless**

"He wasn't a very nice man you see. He made me fall in love with him, he was very persistent – it wasn't as if I ever thought of him as dating material – and owled me daily. There were Floo calls too, at first I rejected them but I accepted one and found it harder and harder to decline the rest.

Then there were the dates. He had money - we all knew that as he force feed the fact to everyone – so the dates were lavish, filled with meals in expensive restaurants, opera and theatre visits, surprise day trips to Paris . . . very lavish.

The sex was good too. Don't think I'm not going to mention an important thing! He could be kind and gentle or rough and passion filled. Very accommodating.

While I mention it, to date Draco Malfoy you have to be very _accommodating_ too, if you know what I mean.

So, he was charming, seemingly head over heels infatuated with me, and the sex was great. Who wouldn't have fallen in love?

Except, you're not supposed to fall in love with him. I suppose for him, the best part of a relationship was the start. After that he would get bored with the monotony of only seeing one girl.

I think we were together for two months before he started seeing another girl. Catching him in the act didn't break my heart, but seeing his unabashed – _smug_ – face did. He didn't even care about my pain."

Ginny turned to face Ron, who was still frozen and staring at her with an expression of alarm and fear.

"Ginny," he said pleadingly, "please put the knife down, Ginny-"

"-He wasn't very nice Ron! He was emotionally heartless. Now he's physically too."

* * *

**O_O**

**How did that happen?**

**Either way, I kinda dig it.**

**Thanks for FuTuRe reviews!**


	35. XXXV : Light

**XXXV : Light**

_It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,_

Draco didn't know when he realised that the Dark Lord's service wasn't for him. He knew that he wasn't inherently dark, sure, he was crueller than many, but the sheer scale of the Dark Lord's cruelty was out of his range and Draco couldn't handle it.

_Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt._

The constant feel of wrongness sat disjointed within him, amplified every time he had to watch someone be tortured, or reports of raids where there was a death target. He wasn't cut out for such planned and meticulous evil. His horribleness at school had never killed, let alone maimed.

_It lies behind stars and under hills,_

He remembered reading a random Muggle book while waiting in one of their homes for the attack to start. The wizard they were after was pushing laws through the Wizengamot which were unhelpful to the Dark Lord and so was going to be killed. The wizard was aware of this, and had steered clear of his home for the past four days. Draco was part of a team who were just covering a base; they weren't expecting to be needed.

_And empty holes it fills._

On the fifth night though, the wizard returned. Draco did not know the reason, all he remembered was putting down the book (just when it had became slightly interesting too) and ran out across the street, hoping to Stun the man.

_It comes first and follows after,_

Afterwards Draco returned to the Muggle house and took the book. It wasn't like the owners would mind; dead people had no use for books after all. The streets were dark as he left, the night had claimed the sky, but Draco could still make out the fallen body in the road.

_Ends life, kills laugher_

Draco decided that the Muggle writer was right about the dark. It had crept up on Draco and taken him before he knew it was there, spinning him in its web. Now Draco was too tightly wound to ever be free. Even though he didn't like it, he couldn't escape, so he could only accept it and make the best of it. He had never realised how light he actually was until he was completely and irrevocably dark.

* * *

**The italics are from _The Hobbit_, page 89 in my book. **

**This one is . . . abstract. I just needed something and I've been wanting to use that riddle for ages. Hm, I think I should have saved it, but oh well.**

**I've got a couple more drabbles written, but they're all for #40 onwards, so I still have to get through another five. I'm hoping to catch up by this time next week, so I need to write twenty three drabbles. **

**In a week. **

**That's three a night and then some. **

**Maybe I'll say two weeks?**


	36. XXXVI : Obvious

**XXXVI : Obvious**

They didn't need words; actions were enough.

He didn't insult Ron when he was clumsy, like the time Ron tripped on a false step and crashed onto his face; instead he just placed a sneer on to his face and walked on.

He no longer called Harry 'scar-head,' 'lightning dolt' or 'Saint Potter.' Now it was just 'Potter' if he ever spoke to him, which he did rarely.

'Mudblood' disappeared from his vocabulary. She would like to think it had gone completely, but she was sure there were moments when he thought it in his head. As long as he didn't say it aloud, she could live with that small defeat.

She thought everyone would see he had changed, but people seemed to be blind to him. To them he was still the rat-faced bastard who had caused them so many problems.

She knew that he hadn't changed entirely. There was no way he could ever be anyone but him, but it was almost as if the edges had been smoothed – albeit only lightly – and instead of his cold, hard, harshness there was an air of cool self-assurance, someone who didn't need to project his strength.

She'd still admit he could be a bastard at times, but the point was, was that he was trying to move on past his younger image.

Their relationship was . . . odd to say the least, built up more on action than words. Words lead to conversing which could lead uncomfortable topics being broached, such as the upcoming war – the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match – and even the fight against Voldemort.

She didn't know where he stood, he had never verbalised his decision, but she thought he'd do the right thing, he'd changed.

She hoped that the blindness towards him wouldn't drive him away from her side. If no-one extended a hand to guide him, he would find it easier to join his father's side, against hers, against her.

It was one thing for him to change, another for people to recognise it. Ginny thought it was obvious, but then again, she did spend a lot of time studying the subject that is Draco Malfoy.

* * *

***shys away* It was written at one in the morning! Leave this place!**

**[Nearly caught up on review replies . . . now need to leave some reviews of my own.]**


	37. XXXVII : Archaic

**XXXVII : Archaic**

"_Con este lume e xofre ofrecer, ter no noso sacrificio e imos prosperar, causar-lle dor e sufrimento, no seu caso, só permitir que os nosos membros para pasar libremente. A través dos reinos ea través dos tempos, de volta ao lugar que desexamos, pasamos agora e imos cambiar, imos triunfar e imos gañar!"_

Draco felt his head harshly jerked up, and he faced the line of chanting wizards.

Or witches. With the hooded robes it was rather difficult to tell gender.

Their rasping chanting grew louder and louder, filling the evening's air with their words and powerful dark magic. The hollow they were in was in the middle of a shallow ditch, trees grew around, protecting the proceedings within. With the help flickering and crackling firelight, Draco was able to make out the trees high and spindly branches which intertwined and braided together, capturing darkness with their weaving and leaving light outside. Draco spun his eyes around, but all he could see were the towering trees, the fierce fire and the moaning magicians who had began pacing around the fire.

All in all, Draco decided it was a very cheese scene of Dark magic, usually put on show for children during Halloween. The only terrifying aspect of it was that it was real – and Draco was aware that he was going to soon be in pain.

A lot of it in fact.

The archaic language swirled around him, catching him with it's claws and pincers, and pulling him along into its mysterious magic making.

Draco was well versed in languages, and unfortunately he knew exactly what was being said. Unfortunate as he suspected not knowing you were about to be sacrificed was probably better than knowing you were. At least with ignorance you have moments of hope.

_'With this fire and brimstone offer, take our sacrifice and let us prosper,' _a ritualised burning then, Draco concluded. Draco frowned at his thoughts, but realised that this was not the time for irrational and panicky thoughts.

At the moment he was so calm it was scary.

Not as scary as the ritualised burning though.

* * *

**This is the beginning of an arc which may be long or short, I just need to decide which one I'd rather. So far, it's looking like it'll be the long one.**


	38. XXXVIII : Home

**XXXVIII : Home**

Ginny had had four homes since her birth. The first was the Burrow, where she spent the first seventeen years of her life with her family. The second was Hogwarts, where she spent the majority of seven years with her friends. The third was the Auror training barracks, where she had signed up to stay after deciding to make the most of her training time. Living at the barracks allowed for ore training time and a chance to be one of the first to be called upon to assist. The final one was her flat. A plain one-bed place located above the top of a shop full of curiosities. Although plain, it was comfortable and for the amount of time Ginny spent in it, perfect. Her home had became a retreat from work, rare as it was for Ginny to need it. As usual, entering her home was a relief, where she could be or do whatever she liked. Like walk around naked or reading a smutty, trashy novel without anyone finding out.

As per tradition, her first desire was to bathe and so when Harry Floo'ed her she was about to peel off her clingy, sweaty, workout clothes and sink into the rapidly filling tub. The shrill cheery tone that rang out whenever she was being rung blared just as she had picked up her current read and placed it by the side of the tub.

Sighing lightly, Ginny padded through her flat into the living-room where her Floo was. Kneeling down before it she swallowed any annoyance and accepted the call.

"Ginny! Thank God! Look, we need you to come in right away, an emergency's came up." Harry looked distracted, and as he spoke he was signing forms and directing people around. His job as Head of Magical Law Enforcement had honed his skills at multi-tasking after his years of Director of the Auror's had created them.

Not even bothering to argue, Ginny nodded before hanging up and running into her bedroom to change. She couldn't have a wash, but a change of clothes ought to help the smell slightly.

As Ginny dressed she ran through the possibilities in her mind. She had just returned from a two week training course with some of the elite Aurors who were being prepared to move onto the DWD – the Dark Wizards Department, a place where only the best were selected to work, where they hunted down some of the worse the country had to offer. Ginny herself had spent time working there, three years to be precise, before moving on.

Dispelling the thoughts of her time in the DWD, Ginny returned to her original thoughts.

After the training course, she had taken some new recruits through their paces and watched as another set completed their final tests. Her last month had been full of physical action, enough to warrant a four day weekend which was supposed to have started tonight.

The only thing that would have made Harry call her back to her position was a major crisis; like a newly emerged Dark Lord, the assassination of the Minister, or a massacre.

Not having her mother of the Floo begging her to return to the Burrow made those three options look unlikely. Ginny slipped her cloak over her full battle robes. Whatever it was, she had no doubt there would be fighting involved by the end of the night.

* * *

**Thanks for the reviews. **

**This is still part of the arc. Which I will be calling . . . the Varc.**


	39. XXXIX : Fun and Games

**XXXIX : Fun and Games**

After years of practice, Ginny could glide out of a fireplace like any lady of society. Unlike usual her entrance went unnoticed as she glided into the chaos that was the DoMLE. Casting a worried look around, Ginny wondered if maybe there was a Dark Lord and Molly just hadn't had time to work her way through her children, down to Ginny.

Striding through the department, gently – but firmly – moving people out of her way, Ginny made her way to the back of the department where the large conference room was located.

Through the unblocked windows Ginny could see that nearly every member of the senior DoMLE staff was there.

Harry was pacing back and forth, up and down past the table, while the others were pouring over spread out pieces of paper that filled the table top.

Ginny tuned out the hustle and bustle and entered the strangely quiet room. This time her appearance was greeted, albeit rushed.

"Ginny, great, you're here. Here's the sit. We've got a group of wizards calling themselves the Vultures who have kidnapped someone and are using 'em in a ritual to do something major." Harry pulled her over and directed her attention to a hastily scrawled note.

"Martin?"

The head of Intelligence glanced up. "What? Oh, right. We've got someone on the inside, we've been tracking the Vultures for awhile now, that's his note. Apparently the Vultures are planning on resurrecting the Dark Lord or preventing his death, something like that – our mole isn't high up enough to know more."

A woman peered up at Ginny through her narrow glasses, her bobbing head catching her attention. "Vultures take their name from the Vol 'flight' part of the Dark Lord's name, taking the bird idea, and the idea of death from the Death Eaters, creating this 'death bird' a vulture. Fascinating thought process these dark wizards have, absolutely fascinating." Returning to her work, the woman looked away, allowing Ginny to give Harry a questioning glance.

Bending down, he whispered in her ear; "Matilda from the Department of Chronicles. I don't know why she was sent, but she's supposed to be a good researcher."

Nodding in partial understanding, Ginny took a closer look at the note. "Have we got any idea about time or loco?" she asked aloud, at no-one in particular.

Martin answered. "A wood, midnight. Not much, but it's all we have. Matilda's searching the books, looking for any hints about the ritual, the rest of us are just trying to work through the information for a clue."

Ginny bitterly laughed. A wood at midnight? That gave them three hours and a fuckload of possibilities.

Harry sent her a reproving glare. "This is it people. No time for fun and games, we've got an innocent wizard out there with a group of people who are trying to bring back Voldemort. I want everyone pulled off holidays and I want teams being sent out to rec in twenty minutes or less. If you've got contacts, get 'em in and pump 'em. No beating around the bush with tactics and what have you. This shit just got real."

There was a pause at the end of Harry's words and Ginny took the chance to ask him one final question before getting her hands on her contact.

"What's the kidnap wizard's name?"

Pursing his lips, Harry glanced at the suddenly interested group before responding, "Draco Malfoy."

* * *

**O_O OMM! **

**In this arc I've messed with the DoMLE a bit. Now the Aurors are more like police, the DWD the anti-terrorism/dark wizards department, DoI in the CIA/MI5 whatever you want to called it. Ginny's job will be revealed soon. Harry is the overall department head, Ginny's, Martin's etc... boss.**

**Yes, Varc = Vultures arc. Mm . . . .**

**Oh, and 'this shit just got real,' is because my brothers are watching Bad Boys (love it!) and he said the line as I was writing this. ^_^**


	40. XXXX : Clothes

**XXXX : Clothes**

Before leaving the Manor to move to France, Narcissa had packed away a lot of her clothes and left them in storage at the Manor. Every so often she would write with a request for this dress, or that pair of shoes and although it got a bit irritating, constantly having to rifle through her mother-in-laws clothing, Ginny didn't mind too much as technically she was living in Narcissa's house.

The latest letter contained a note asking for her third favourite winter coat – the other two already in France of course – which was located in the first floor winter coat closet.

Yes, Malfoy Manor had such a dedicated closet, completely different to the second floor winter jacket closet.

Leaving her husband and young child downstairs, Ginny went on the hunt for the coat.

She found the cupboard easily enough, before she left Narcissa had plans of the manor drew up and neatly labelled, but wasn't expecting the number of coats behind the door.

Or how closely packed they had became. It seems that every cupboard in the Manor had a specific duty and Narcissa did not want to take over two closets for winter coats. As such, the poor House-Elves had to fit every coat in the small closet.

Had they known what Ginny was trying to achieve, they probably would have politely demanded she let them retrieve it.

Unbeknownst to Ginny the House-Elves had magically sealed the door shut, because otherwise it would . . . explode open.

The lightest touch from Ginny's hand was enough to cause the door to spring open, bombarding her with coats and drowning her. Ginny collapsed under the sheer weight and felt the pile grow heavier as more were added.

Panicking, Ginny tried standing up, but couldn't, she tried pushing the coats away but any that did were immediately replaced.

_Dear Merlin, this can't be the end of me!_

Still flaring about, Ginny didn't notice the lightening load, but as she did she seized upon the opportunity and pushed and flayed, moving the coats out of her path.

"Ginny!"

She heard her name being called from below and redoubled her efforts.

Finally she broke free of the coats embrace and cast around looking for her saviour.

Or saviours she corrected as she regarded the three sheepish looking House-Elves before her.

Seeing one was about to speak she stopped it. "I don't want to know. Just find Narcissa's third favourite bloody coat and send it to her."

As she was leaving the room she called back, "And pack some of the stored clothes away, put them in one of the attics. I don't want to be smothered every time I open a cupboard."

Reaching the banister she leaned over, well aware of her flushed face, and thinking about how many of cupboards were overflowing, she replied; "What?"

* * *

**The answer to what Ginny was doing in Puzzle.**


	41. XXXXI : Servant

**XXXXI : Servant**

The Vultures were the Dark Lord's final servants. Left out of most meetings and raids, and unmarked, these chosen twelve were the last result if anything unexpected happened and the Dark Lord was . . . indisposed again.

For the first ten years the servants lived their lives as normal, most actually relieved the Dark Lord was dead.

Then the itching started and slowly, through the years, their bodies began to ache, their magic started to wane and no Healer had a cure, or even an idea of what was ailing them.

A few meetings had soon concluded that it was only they who were affected and rightly so they decided that their current predicament was some how caused by the Dark Lord. Further researched showed that as the Dark Lord's final servants they had a duty to fulfil; they had to continue to help him, even when he was dead.

This lead to anger from many of the group, who finally realised that they were damned if the Dark Lord was dead, and if he was alive. Their lives were good, peaceful and successful. The Dark Lord would ruin all that with his war and reign.

Nevertheless, they had to do what they could do. As they researched spells to resurrect, spells that could potentially bring their master back they noticed the bad affects lighten their hold and soon they were all feeling stronger than ever.

The Dark Lord's magic and power was intoxicating even when he was dead.

Tonight was the night when all their plans would be put into place. Their ruins were carved, the potion prepared and the sacrifice was ready.

After discovering that resurrection would never truly bring the Dark Lord back from the dead they settled on the next best thing: making sure he didn't die in the first place.

* * *

**Part of the Varc. the last one however, certainly wasn't.**

**Varc takes place about eleven years after the Final battle, so yes, Harry and Ginny have very quickly made their way up the ladder but they're just that good.**

**Oh, and in this new society no-one has kids until they're at _least_ thirty. When you live for yonks, you don't exactly need to hurry.**


	42. XXXXII : Roots

**XXXXII : Roots**

"Mum! I left my toothbrush in the bathroom!"

"Which one?"

"The one in the East wing, opposite Abraxas' old playroom!"

"I'll get it. Go stand by the front door with your sister, we leave for the train station in ten minutes."

"Is dad coming with us?"

"No, he has to attend a meeting with the Minister."

"_Fine."_

Ginny stepped away from the balcony over the foyer, where she had been holding her shouted conversation with her eldest son, he somewhere downstairs and she upstairs.

Heading down the hallway on her left, Ginny picked up her pace. _This place is too bloody big_, she thought, as she passed a number of doorways.

Finally arriving at her destination, Ginny threw open the door and fell inside, heading immediately for the sink. Spotting the brush, she went for it and it was only after she picked it up and had turned around, did she notice that she was not alone.

Standing against the wall, obviously trying to hide his presence, was her husband.

"Draco, what in the world is on your head?"

"Nothing."

"It looks like-"

"It's nothing! Shouldn't you be going? If you miss the train again, I am _not _allowing them to Floo there, not after last time."

"First off, that was an accident and secondly, Draco Malfoy, are you dying your hair?"

"I'm only darkening the roots, it's-"

"You're going grey!"

"I am _not _going grey! I am exploring my follicle options."

" . . . Well, it's better than a receding hairline I suppose."

* * *

**Ergh. If I write 'Too Easy' I'll have two more drabbles to post tonight. **

**Anyway, thanks to Jess for the idea for the last line. **


	43. XXXXIII : Too Easy

**XXXXIII : Too Easy**

To most people in the dingy bar the couple in the corner looked like a strangely dressed hooker and a seedy client. The man was leant over, nursing a filthy mug filled with a murky brown liquid and it didn't seem to be his first. She was wearing to many clothes for the average street walker, but her sunken eyes and haggard expression lent to the idea that she was a woman who lived a hard life.

They were both huddled together, their heads close enough that their whispered conversation was unheard – a rarity in this place. His hands were wrapped around his drink, while she was obviously trying extra hard to coax him into life as her foot was resting on his leg, close to sliding into his crouch.

To the people who didn't fall for this imagine though, the truth was very different.

The hooker was dressed in battle robes, covered up by an cloak, the seedy man was one of the biggest information sellers on the market, the muted conversation was kept hidden from ears by a _Privato_ charm and the foot resting on the leg wasn't teasing but menacing. Unseen, at the end of the shoe, was a small sharp dagger coated in a paralysing poison. The foot wasn't playing but rather, it was holding the jewels hostage.

All in all, Ginny got her information fairly quickly. The threat of a paralysed genitalia worked wonders and Ginny was able to get her intelligence at a better rate than usual. A few tricks and the world opened its doors for you. Too easy sometimes.

* * *

**This is dedicated to Karla. Not for all the awesome reviews, but for this line:**

'I wrote Draco in a blouse for one. It's sad. I should edit. Nobody told me men didn't wear blouses. I thought it was macho.'

**Part of Varc.**


	44. XXXXIV : Insane

**XXXXIV : Insane**

Draco pulled him clothes on hastily, and stuffed Theodore's clothes into his overnight bag. Grabbing hold of their possessions, he shrunk them and shoved them in his pocket. Wand still in hand, Draco left the room and stormed down the stairs.

Catching sight of the same man behind the desk, Draco ran over to him and, grabbing him by the tie, yanked him over towards him.

"Where is my partner?" he gritted out, the rage evident on his face. _No-one knew we were here, the only person we've seen – who's seen us – is this creep here._

"I'm afraid sir I do not know where your friend has gone." The man's eyes glinted and his breathe sped up.

"Is he outside?" Draco didn't let up, tightening his grip.

"Your friend has not checked out," the man simply replied, seemingly oblivious to Draco's suffocating hold.

"Enough games!" Draco spat. Pointing his wand at him, he hissed; "_Veritas," _and watched as the dark magic took hold.

"If you lie to me, you will feel more pain then you've ever dreamed of, and then you will die. Do you understand?"

The man was still held up with by Draco's hand, and Draco felt the heat from his glare almost pierce his skin.

"I know the spell," he said bitterly.

"Wonderful. Now, what happened to my friend?"

Watching his face go from contempt and disgust to pain agreed with Draco.

Reluctantly the man replied. "It's the bed. Whoever sleeps in it disappears, never seen again."

Ice froze Draco and for a moment he couldn't process his thoughts.

"What do you mean disappear?" His composure had all but boiled away, now all was left was a breaking man.

"They appear as dead on Ministry records, death 'unknown'."

As his world feel around him, Draco let his hold go on the man and his wand hand went limp.

"Why?" he asked.

The man straightened up and patted his clothes down. "If the bed isn't feed, bad things happen. You've seen this town? It used to be full of people. We tried to stop the thing, break it, burn it, but it doesn't work. People started dying, the place started withering. One day, the bed turns up here, in room three and someone slept in it. People stopped dying but the town still did."

Draco stared unbelievingly at the man and his words.

"Fucking insane," Draco muttered.

* * *

**So . . . this was a sequel to Bed and Compressed. I don't know if there will be another of these, maybe a tearful Draco finally destroying the bed because . . . - I'm going to keep the plot to myself.**

**The spell is from a story I've read fairly recently . . . I want to say the Draco Trilogy (don't judge my tastes based on that confession).**


	45. XXXXV : Clouds

**XXXXV : Clouds**

The sky above him was rather interesting. The dark grey clouds billowed around, moving through the sky in a dance and wrapping themselves around their brothers and sister.

Entranced with the dance, Draco remembered the last time he was stuck, looking up at the night clouds.

_He had been leaving Knockturn Alley after picking up a parcel for a 'friend.' It was the early hours of the morning and most of the streets were dead; with his plain black cloak pulled tightly around him, Draco was nearly invisible in amongst the shadows of the tall eerily quiet buildings. _

_His sharp eyes darted about, searching for anyone who may try to stop him. Even his eyes weren't good enough to see the invisible though, and Draco was caught unawares from behind. Dragged into a side street and thrown to the ground, Draco's head smashed back against the grimy floor and stunned him. That moment of weakness allowed his attacker a chance to freeze him and so he was left, lying on his back starring up at the one who held him._

_The attacked lowered their hood revealing an oval shaped head and long hair. They didn't light their wand, so Draco couldn't see any more._

"_In the middle of the morning and scurrying around like a rat? What are you hiding Mr Malfoy?" The feminine voice struck a chord in Draco, and he desperately tried to place it. _

_The woman stepped closer and knelt down before patting him down. "You were seen picking something up from Madame Bluefont's, you were seen leaving and dropping something into your pocket as you did so." The voice idly chatted, completely relaxed. _

_Draco assumed he had been taken by the Aurors. The ease in which she held herself meant she was either so strong that she didn't fear an attack from behind or that she had back-up in the street who would keep them undiscovered and disturbed. _

"_Aha, what's this?" The woman finally found the thing he had been trying to keep hidden. Pulling the parcel out of one she held it for a moment before carefully unwrapping the paper._

_She lit the end of her wand and held it in her mouth, the lit end trained on the package. Quickly dismantling it she was surprised into silence._

"_It's a shrunken Mira Meow Piano; a toy for my goddaughter." Draco wasn't able to see the effect his words had on the woman, but he knew that he was now in control of the situation. "I think you need to unbind me," he commented, but was shocked when she just vanished. " Weasley?" he finished. _

_

* * *

_

**Reviews will be answered . . . eventually. Massive thank you in advance though. **

**This can be on its own, but I'm thinking that it's part of Varc; a bit of past DG action.**

**Also, thank you if you do add this story to your alert list. I want you all to know that that makes the world of difference to me, knowing that you're reading my story.**

**Something I wrote! Aw shucks!  
**


	46. XXXXVI : Challenge

**XXXXVI : Challenge**

Ginny slid the door open to the conference room and slipped inside. The heads were still bent over the paperwork, but a new addition had been added. At one end of the room a large map of Britain had been blown up and stuck to it. It was covered in red circles – target areas – and some already had a black cross through them. Ginny saw how many circles still had to be checked out and hoped that she was about to save everyone a lot of time and effort.

"The ritual must be cast in a place of death magic, where Death leaves his final magic," she declared and heads snapped up to meet her eyes.

"What does that mean?" Martin quickly asked and Ginny could only shrug.

"I don't know, that's all my guy knows. Supposedly one of these Vultures is their research guy and he was working in the Great Library. Someone saw him rush out and he happened to drop a bit of paper. 'Nother guy picks it up and all he sees is that titbit before it's snatched out of his hand by the Vulture." Ginny finished and took a seat.

"Death magic?" Matilda pondered aloud. "I think . . . I think I know." She scanned the piles of books surrounding her and her eyes lit up when she caught sight of one. "Here!" Flipping the pages over she searched the text, explaining as she did so. "Dark Lord regularly attempted to cheat death, they created different enchantments, charms and rituals all designed to make them stronger, less vulnerable. Death magic is this magic," she paused, reading the text. "Here," she pointed and read:

'_Death magics are never anything but rituals of the darkest magics. Traditionally performed in very natural environments to contrast the unnatural designed effect, common places are woods as they offer a plethora of life matter that can strengthen the ritual. Offer places can include marshes and mountains, for although they may not offer as much life matter they are areas unconquered by man. Once utilised these places slowly begin to wither; creating areas where no life can be found. If full lifelessness is not achieved then these areas can be found as hosts for some of the deadliest and resilient plants and animals known to man.'_

"That's all there is," Matilda murmured, and began flipping through the book again, hoping for more information.

Harry strode over to the map. "That leaves us with about fifteen places to check out," he said as he began to cross through the woods that didn't fit the requirements.

"'Death leaves his final magic' could be, well, it could mean where the Dark Lords died," Ginny offered.

Harry chewed his lip. "I don't know, but it's all we have now. Andrews, Slintuh I need a list of any places where Dark Lords – or wizards – have died and if that place has a history of Dark magic or dead woods." The two wizards nodded and left.

"Ginny, you'll be leading a team, you ought to go debrief and prep 'em." Harry looked over the map. "Even with all our people out there it's going to take a long time to comb these places. And before midnight? Fuck, it's gonna be a challenge." Harry sighed and waved Ginny away.

* * *

**Bit weak, but shh!**

**How about this: Draco gets rescued and the Ministry finds out about his skills in languages so they hirer him. Nott's also working at the Ministry and they develop a closer friendship, leading onto *waggles eyebrows* and then that all leads on to Bed. Then Nott's dead, Draco cries and ends up with Ginny. **

**So Varc and the Bed universe are all part of one big story arc! **

**. . . No?  
**


	47. XXXXVII : Sight

**XXXXVII : Sight**

She smelled like vanilla; the scent filled the air when she walked in. To everyone else it was only subtle but to him, to him the smell overrode all other smells, dominating and enchanting him.

She tasted like chocolate. That never surprised him; he knew how much of it she ate. For her chocolate was her luxury. For him, she was his.

She sounded like the troubles of the world had never reached her; her voice was hard with stubbornness but soft with love.

She felt like a squishy pillow. The first time he had told her that she had hit him. It was true though, she wasn't hard like rock or soft like a marshmallow, but inbetween; she felt right.

She looked horrible when she was crying and her eyes were splotchy and red. The tears had stained her cheeks which were not a healthy rosy pink but an angry red and her lips were thin and narrow. It was the worse he had seen her. He always envisioned her happy. A wide smiling face with plump pink lips, bright sparkling eyes and her vibrant red hair framing her pale milky face. He did everything he could to keep that happy face, to see that sight.

When he was younger he used to play a game where you'd have to pick between two options. 'Would you rather eat broccoli or parsnips? Rain or hail? Deaf or blind?'

He would always be able to choose with ease, but if someone ever asked 'Sight or touch? Sound or taste? Smell or sounds?' – Whatever the combination – he would never be able to decide, because losing one of those was still losing part of her.


	48. XXXXVIII : Flowers

**XXXXVIII : Flowers**

"Do you really think that flowers would make for what you did?" Ginny screamed throwing the nearest thing that came to hand at the smug blond standing in her apartment.

Draco ducked down and avoided the biscuit tin that came flying his way. "Ginny!" he yelled, "it wasn't my fault, you know what it's-" Draco broke off as he dodged another missile (a box of Soul Sucker Snaps). "At least come out of the kitchen!" he pleaded, in the hope that she wasn't slowly making her way towards the cutlery drawer.

An incoming plate answered his plea.

"Anyone could have made the mistake! What was I-"

"You saw my brother go into a hotel with a man and assumed he was having a torrid gay affair?" she asked loudly. "Who would have put those two ideas together Draco?"

"Your brother looked very smart, like he had tidied up. I thought it was for his fancy man, real-"

"Hermione fainted, my mum kept asking herself how she went so wrong and George was making a banner for Ron's 'coming-out' party!"

"I said I was sorry," Draco mumbled.

"Flowers," Ginny gritted out, "do not quite cut it this time with me Draco Malfoy."

"Ginny, what do I have to do?"

Ginny left the kitchen and picked up the flowers, shoving them in Draco's surprised arms. "You're going to go to Ron's and apologise, he deserves the flowers."


	49. XXXXIX : More

**XXXXIX : More**

"More Draco, more!" Ginny demanded lying on her back with her rump propped up by a pillow and her bosom heaving.

Draco felt like weeping. "I can't Ginny, I can't do it anymore. I need a chance to rest."

Ginny frowned and then grew angry. "My brothers have all started to catch up! We need more kids. We are going to beat them if it's the last thing we do!"

"Ginny!" Draco cried, "At this rate it will be the last thing I do!"

"So be it!" Ginny said forcefully.

Before Draco had a chance to blink Ginny whipped out her wand and petrified him. Levitating him onto the bed she positioned him and cast one final spell.

"_Viagrato," _she intoned and then straddled the frozen blond, having her way with him.

"More children Draco! More children!" she screamed as she rode him.

Outside the seventh eldest child backed away from the door, ashen. "Mum's got hold of her wand again," he whispered, "she's overcame Dad."

"What should we do?" asked the eighth eldest.

"Dehydration potions and muscle repairers for Dad, and we'll Floo Abraxas, he can come home and Stun her. Molly's studying for her OWLs and Lucas and Lucrien will be in NEWT exams. Cyggie won't want to and Maria doesn't know how to yet." The other children looked at the ninth eldest child and agreed with his plan; it was what they usually had to do.

* * *

**I think I've broken my imagination. **

***snorts* I thought it was funny though.  
**


	50. XXXXX : Love

**XXXXX : Love**

'_L is the way that you lie when you sleep, relaxed and carefree and without the world's problems on your face. O is the outright adoration that I feel for yooou. V is my vacant life without you. E is the emotion that you make me feel for yooooou. 'Cause I love you, and if you don't mind will you let me, let me show you how I feeeeeeeeeeeel. 'Cause I'm loving you! Baaaaby, yeah I love you . . . .'_

Draco turned to Ginny, his face unbelieving. "You wanted to come here?"

"It's karaoke Draco! It's fun!"

"It's painful Ginny, painful." Draco took in the view. Up on stage an overweight man dressed in a sparkly red number was gyrating and singing the recent power ballad: Love At The Spelling Bee. The bar was full of brightly coloured bottles and the cocktails were flowing more so than the beer. The old chairs and tables were battered and ripped, and the carpet looked like it was growing.

The place was heaving despite all of this; its seedy atmosphere having became its main selling point – somehow.

"What did you want to sing?"

Draco's despair at the decor was broken when he heard his girlfriend utter the question. He turned in shock only to see her teasing face.

"I'm not singing," he flatly answered and Ginny merely smiled.

"Let's get some cocktail, then we'll see what you have to say."

* * *

**The only V I could think of was vagina at first. Thank you dictionary.**

**Anyway, the prompt's 'Love' so even though this wasn't all about love, the prompt inspired this. So that's okay.**

**Right?**


	51. LI : Anent

**LI : Anent**

"Luna . . . this place is amazing! How did you find it?" Ginny gazed in awe at the space around them; they were in the hall of their holiday villa and Ginny knew this wasn't in their budget. The place was too . . . perfect.

The hall was plain and bare with white walls and pale brown tiles, but it reached up two floors, offering a glimpse of the second floor. It wasn't just the sheer size of the place that Ginny was surprised by, it was the view too.

Perched on top of a seaside mountain, the full length windows offered a view out across the ocean, and the rolling green hills were matched in vibrancy by the deep blue of the water.

"A friend of a friend," Luna said absent-mindedly, levitating her suitcase up the winding staircase with a steady turn of her wand.

"Friend of a friend?" Ginny asked, immediately suspicious.

"Mm-hm," Luna said and began to hum.

"Luna! Tell me who the owner is," Ginny demanded, her voice rising anent the humming.

"A friend of Blaise's," Luna divulged.

Ginny frowned. "Draco, Luna? Please tell me this isn't his house!"

"Well good morning ladies! Ready for a fun sun filled week?"

Ginny spun round in horror at the voice, coming face to face with Blaise. Whirling back around she indignantly looked at Luna before accusingly calling her name. "Luna!"

"Come now Ginny! We're all friends here; Luna and I thought it would be nice if the four of us spent and nice relaxing week away."

"Four?" Ginny whispered to herself, hoping that it didn't mean what she thought it did.

Blaise moved forward to greet Luna properly and as he did he revelled the man standing behind him.

"Ginny," Draco greeted casually.

Ginny gritted out a greeting and was about to take her bags upstairs when his voice rang out.

"By the way, it's not actually a house, it's a villa."

* * *

**I did want to carry on with the 'XXXXXI' but I kept seeing double the amount of xs which made titling the chapter harder than it ought to be.**

**XO Nearly three hundred reviews . . . crazy.**


	52. LII : Corner

**LII : Corner**

"You 'ave me in a corner Mister 'armang, I see no way out of zis. Though, perhaps, I can interest you in something? Something that will make you change your mind?" Ginny looked up between her eyelashes up at the broodingly handsome man.

"I think we may be able to come to an . . . arrangement." His voice darkened with lust and he seized her waist, pulling her towards him.

"Mister 'armang, I think zis is zee perfect arrangem'nt." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Take me now!" she ordered, and he was just leaning down to take her lips when a voice rang out: "Cut!"

They dropped from their almost embrace immediately and made their way over to their seats. Dropping down, Ginny grabbed the offered water and watched as her leading man had his face touched up.

For a moment they were alone.

"This script is horrendous," Draco commented. "Why are we doing this again?"

Ginny sighed, remembering how she asked herself the very same thing. "It's in our contracts."

"This suave evil business man stuff's getting old."

"At least you aren't essentially a porn star," Ginny grumbled.

"You're not a porn star! You've had an emotionally abusing childhood and now use sex as a weapon to move up in the world and protect your heart."

"Oh yes, I had forgotten the emotionally abusing childhood."

"And at least you don't have four ex-wives to support." Draco pointed out, feeling as annoyed as he would be if he did actually have four ex-wives to support.

"Five actually," Ginny corrected.

"Where'd that one come from?" Draco asked, sure that he hadn't divorced his fifth wife yet.

"She's about to walk in on us and discover your playboy ways."

Draco's reply was cut off by the frantic waving of their director. "Back to the grind again."

They crossed the floor and took up their roles again, Draco holding Ginny in the throes of passion, and Ginny backed into a corner with her legs wrapped around her soon to be lover.

Soon to be on screen perhaps, but lover already when the cameras stopped rolling.


	53. LIII : Guilt

**LIII : Guilt**

Draco strode out of his study and into the foyer with Ginny fast on his heels. "What," he began icily, "are you two doing?"

Instantly he was assaulted with excuses.

"It was him-"

"Nu-uh! I was-"

"-he pushed me-"

"-just walking down-"

"-and I fell backwards-"

"the hall, minding my own business-"

"and knocked down the coat rack-"

"when he ran past me, really really fast-"

"and the rack fell over and hit-"

"so fast . . . he was running in the house-"

"the statue of that bald man-"

"and he tripped on the rug-"

"which hit the stand and knocked over the vase-"

"and banged against the stand-"

"which broke."

"pushing the vase over and breaking it!"

"It was his fault," they concluded together.

Ginny and Draco shared a look, their disbelief plain to see in their eyes.

Turning back to the two, both with guilt plastered over their faces, they sighed and both silently hoped the advert would turn up results.

_'Either way,' _Draco thought, _'those two need to work on their lying. They'll never do well in Slytherin otherwise.'_

_

* * *

_

**Sequel to Seeking Peace.**


	54. LIV : Prisoner

**LIV : Prisoner**

**_(preceded by the other Varc drabbles)_**

"_Con este lume e xofre ofrecer, ter no noso sacrificio e imos prosperar, causar-lle dor e sufrimento, no seu caso, só permitir que os nosos membros para pasar libremente. A través dos reinos ea través dos tempos, de volta ao lugar que desexamos, pasamos agora e imos cambiar, imos triunfar e imos gañar!"_

Draco felt his head harshly jerked up, and he faced the line of chanting wizards.

Or witches. With the hooded robes it was rather difficult to tell gender.

Their rasping chanting grew louder and louder, filling the evening's air with their words and powerful dark magic. The hollow they were in was in the middle of a shallow ditch, trees grew around, protecting the proceedings within. With the help flickering and crackling firelight, Draco was able to make out the trees high and spindly branches which intertwined and braided together, capturing darkness with their weaving and leaving light outside. Draco spun his eyes around, but all he could see were the towering trees, the fierce fire and the moaning magicians who had began pacing around the fire.

All in all, Draco decided it was a very cheese scene of Dark magic, usually put on show for children during Halloween. The only terrifying aspect of it was that it was real – and Draco was aware that he was going to soon be in pain.

A lot of it in fact.

The archaic language swirled around him, catching him with it's claws and pincers, and pulling him along into its mysterious magic making.

Draco was well versed in languages, and unfortunately he knew exactly what was being said. Unfortunate as he suspected not knowing you were about to be sacrificed was probably better than knowing you were. At least with ignorance you have moments of hope.

_'With this fire and brimstone offer, take our sacrifice and let us prosper,' _a ritualised burning then, Draco concluded. Draco frowned at his thoughts, but realised that this was not the time for irrational and panicky thoughts.

At the moment he was so calm it was scary.

Not as scary as the ritualised burning though.

XxX

Ginny had had four homes since her birth. The first was the Burrow, where she spent the first seventeen years of her life with her family. The second was Hogwarts, where she spent the majority of seven years with her friends. The third was the Auror training barracks, where she had signed up to stay after deciding to make the most of her training time. Living at the barracks allowed for ore training time and a chance to be one of the first to be called upon to assist. The final one was her flat. A plain one-bed place located above the top of a shop full of curiosities. Although plain, it was comfortable and for the amount of time Ginny spent in it, perfect. Her home had became a retreat from work, rare as it was for Ginny to need it. As usual, entering her home was a relief, where she could be or do whatever she liked. Like walk around naked or reading a smutty, trashy novel without anyone finding out.

As per tradition, her first desire was to bathe and so when Harry Floo'ed her she was about to peel off her clingy, sweaty, workout clothes and sink into the rapidly filling tub. The shrill cheery tone that rang out whenever she was being rung blared just as she had picked up her current read and placed it by the side of the tub.

Sighing lightly, Ginny padded through her flat into the living-room where her Floo was. Kneeling down before it she swallowed any annoyance and accepted the call.

"Ginny! Thank God! Look, we need you to come in right away, an emergency's came up." Harry looked distracted, and as he spoke he was signing forms and directing people around. His job as Head of Magical Law Enforcement had honed his skills at multi-tasking after his years of Director of the Auror's had created them.

Not even bothering to argue, Ginny nodded before hanging up and running into her bedroom to change. She couldn't have a wash, but a change of clothes ought to help the smell slightly.

As Ginny dressed she ran through the possibilities in her mind. She had just returned from a two week training course with some of the elite Aurors who were being prepared to move onto the DWD – the Dark Wizards Department, a place where only the best were selected to work, where they hunted down some of the worse the country had to offer. Ginny herself had spent time working there, three years to be precise, before moving on.

Dispelling the thoughts of her time in the DWD, Ginny returned to her original thoughts.

After the training course, she had taken some new recruits through their paces and watched as another set completed their final tests. Her last month had been full of physical action, enough to warrant a four day weekend which was supposed to have started tonight.

The only thing that would have made Harry call her back to her position was a major crisis; like a newly emerged Dark Lord, the assassination of the Minister, or a massacre.

Not having her mother of the Floo begging her to return to the Burrow made those three options look unlikely. Ginny slipped her cloak over her full battle robes. Whatever it was, she had no doubt there would be fighting involved by the end of the night.

XxX

After years of practice, Ginny could glide out of a fireplace like any lady of society. Unlike usual her entrance went unnoticed as she glided into the chaos that was the DoMLE. Casting a worried look around, Ginny wondered if maybe there was a Dark Lord and Molly just hadn't had time to work her way through her children, down to Ginny.

Striding through the department, gently – but firmly – moving people out of her way, Ginny made her way to the back of the department where the large conference room was located.

Through the unblocked windows Ginny could see that nearly every member of the senior DoMLE staff was there.

Harry was pacing back and forth, up and down past the table, while the others were pouring over spread out pieces of paper that filled the table top.

Ginny tuned out the hustle and bustle and entered the strangely quiet room. This time her appearance was greeted, albeit rushed.

"Ginny, great, you're here. Here's the sit. We've got a group of wizards calling themselves the Vultures who have kidnapped someone and are using 'em in a ritual to do something major." Harry pulled her over and directed her attention to a hastily scrawled note.

"Martin?"

The head of Intelligence glanced up. "What? Oh, right. We've got someone on the inside, we've been tracking the Vultures for awhile now, that's his note. Apparently the Vultures are planning on resurrecting the Dark Lord or preventing his death, something like that – our mole isn't high up enough to know more."

A woman peered up at Ginny through her narrow glasses, her bobbing head catching her attention. "Vultures take their name from the Vol 'flight' part of the Dark Lord's name, taking the bird idea, and the idea of death from the Death Eaters, creating this 'death bird' a vulture. Fascinating thought process these dark wizards have, absolutely fascinating." Returning to her work, the woman looked away, allowing Ginny to give Harry a questioning glance.

Bending down, he whispered in her ear; "Matilda from the Department of Chronicles. I don't know why she was sent, but she's supposed to be a good researcher."

Nodding in partial understanding, Ginny took a closer look at the note. "Have we got any idea about time or loco?" she asked aloud, at no-one in particular.

Martin answered. "A wood, midnight. Not much, but it's all we have. Matilda's searching the books, looking for any hints about the ritual, the rest of us are just trying to work through the information for a clue."

Ginny bitterly laughed. A wood at midnight? That gave them three hours and a fuckload of possibilities.

Harry sent her a reproving glare. "This is it people. No time for fun and games, we've got an innocent wizard out there with a group of people who are trying to bring back Voldemort. I want everyone pulled off holidays and I want teams being sent out to rec in twenty minutes or less. If you've got contacts, get 'em in and pump 'em. No beating around the bush with tactics and what have you. This shit just got real."

There was a pause at the end of Harry's words and Ginny took the chance to ask him one final question before getting her hands on her contact.

"What's the kidnap wizard's name?"

Pursing his lips, Harry glanced at the suddenly interested group before responding, "Draco Malfoy."

XxX

The Vultures were the Dark Lord's final servants. Left out of most meetings and raids, and unmarked, these chosen twelve were the last result if anything unexpected happened and the Dark Lord was . . . indisposed again.

For the first ten years the servants lived their lives as normal, most actually relieved the Dark Lord was dead.

Then the itching started and slowly, through the years, their bodies began to ache, their magic started to wane and no Healer had a cure, or even an idea of what was ailing them.

A few meetings had soon concluded that it was only they who were affected and rightly so they decided that their current predicament was some how caused by the Dark Lord. Further researched showed that as the Dark Lord's final servants they had a duty to fulfil; they had to continue to help him, even when he was dead.

This lead to anger from many of the group, who finally realised that they were damned if the Dark Lord was dead, and if he was alive. Their lives were good, peaceful and successful. The Dark Lord would ruin all that with his war and reign.

Nevertheless, they had to do what they could do. As they researched spells to resurrect, spells that could potentially bring their master back they noticed the bad affects lighten their hold and soon they were all feeling stronger than ever.

The Dark Lord's magic and power was intoxicating even when he was dead.

Tonight was the night when all their plans would be put into place. Their ruins were carved, the potion prepared and the sacrifice was ready.

After discovering that resurrection would never truly bring the Dark Lord back from the dead they settled on the next best thing: making sure he didn't die in the first place.

XxX

To most people in the dingy bar the couple in the corner looked like a strangely dressed hooker and a seedy client. The man was leant over, nursing a filthy mug filled with a murky brown liquid and it didn't seem to be his first. She was wearing to many clothes for the average street walker, but her sunken eyes and haggard expression lent to the idea that she was a woman who lived a hard life.

They were both huddled together, their heads close enough that their whispered conversation was unheard – a rarity in this place. His hands were wrapped around his drink, while she was obviously trying extra hard to coax him into life as her foot was resting on his leg, close to sliding into his crouch.

To the people who didn't fall for this imagine though, the truth was very different.

The hooker was dressed in battle robes, covered up by an cloak, the seedy man was one of the biggest information sellers on the market, the muted conversation was kept hidden from ears by a _Privato_ charm and the foot resting on the leg wasn't teasing but menacing. Unseen, at the end of the shoe, was a small sharp dagger coated in a paralysing poison. The foot wasn't playing but rather, it was holding the jewels hostage.

All in all, Ginny got her information fairly quickly. The threat of a paralysed genitalia worked wonders and Ginny was able to get her intelligence at a better rate than usual. A few tricks and the world opened its doors for you. Too easy sometimes.

XxX

The sky above him was rather interesting. The dark grey clouds billowed around, moving through the sky in a dance and wrapping themselves around their brothers and sister.

Entranced with the dance, Draco remembered the last time he was stuck, looking up at the night clouds.

_He had been leaving Knockturn Alley after picking up a parcel for a 'friend.' It was the early hours of the morning and most of the streets were dead; with his plain black cloak pulled tightly around him, Draco was nearly invisible in amongst the shadows of the tall eerily quiet buildings._

_His sharp eyes darted about, searching for anyone who may try to stop him. Even his eyes weren't good enough to see the invisible though, and Draco was caught unawares from behind. Dragged into a side street and thrown to the ground, Draco's head smashed back against the grimy floor and stunned him. That moment of weakness allowed his attacker a chance to freeze him and so he was left, lying on his back starring up at the one who held him._

_The attacked lowered their hood revealing an oval shaped head and long hair. They didn't light their wand, so Draco couldn't see any more._

"_In the middle of the morning and scurrying around like a rat? What are you hiding Mr Malfoy?" The feminine voice struck a chord in Draco, and he desperately tried to place it._

_The woman stepped closer and knelt down before patting him down. "You were seen picking something up from Madame Bluefont's, you were seen leaving and dropping something into your pocket as you did so." The voice idly chatted, completely relaxed._

_Draco assumed he had been taken by the Aurors. The ease in which she held herself meant she was either so strong that she didn't fear an attack from behind or that she had back-up in the street who would keep them undiscovered and disturbed._

"_Aha, what's this?" The woman finally found the thing he had been trying to keep hidden. Pulling the parcel out of one she held it for a moment before carefully unwrapping the paper._

_She lit the end of her wand and held it in her mouth, the lit end trained on the package. Quickly dismantling it she was surprised into silence._

"_It's a shrunken Mira Meow Piano; a toy for my goddaughter." Draco wasn't able to see the effect his words had on the woman, but he knew that he was now in control of the situation. "I think you need to unbind me," he commented, but was shocked when she just vanished. " Weasley?" he finished._

XxX

Ginny slid the door open to the conference room and slipped inside. The heads were still bent over the paperwork, but a new addition had been added. At one end of the room a large map of Britain had been blown up and stuck to it. It was covered in red circles – target areas – and some already had a black cross through them. Ginny saw how many circles still had to be checked out and hoped that she was about to save everyone a lot of time and effort.

"The ritual must be cast in a place of death magic, where Death leaves his final magic," she declared and heads snapped up to meet her eyes.

"What does that mean?" Martin quickly asked and Ginny could only shrug.

"I don't know, that's all my guy knows. Supposedly one of these Vultures is their research guy and he was working in the Great Library. Someone saw him rush out and he happened to drop a bit of paper. 'Nother guy picks it up and all he sees is that titbit before it's snatched out of his hand by the Vulture." Ginny finished and took a seat.

"Death magic?" Matilda pondered aloud. "I think . . . I think I know." She scanned the piles of books surrounding her and her eyes lit up when she caught sight of one. "Here!" Flipping the pages over she searched the text, explaining as she did so. "Dark Lord regularly attempted to cheat death, they created different enchantments, charms and rituals all designed to make them stronger, less vulnerable. Death magic is this magic," she paused, reading the text. "Here," she pointed and read:

'_Death magics are never anything but rituals of the darkest magics. Traditionally performed in very natural environments to contrast the unnatural designed effect, common places are woods as they offer a plethora of life matter that can strengthen the ritual. Offer places can include marshes and mountains, for although they may not offer as much life matter they are areas unconquered by man. Once utilised these places slowly begin to wither; creating areas where no life can be found. If full lifelessness is not achieved then these areas can be found as hosts for some of the deadliest and resilient plants and animals known to man.'_

"That's all there is," Matilda murmured, and began flipping through the book again, hoping for more information.

Harry strode over to the map. "That leaves us with about fifteen places to check out," he said as he began to cross through the woods that didn't fit the requirements.

"'Death leaves his final magic' could be, well, it could mean where the Dark Lords died," Ginny offered.

Harry chewed his lip. "I don't know, but it's all we have now. Andrews, Slintuh I need a list of any places where Dark Lords – or wizards – have died and if that place has a history of Dark magic or dead woods." The two wizards nodded and left.

"Ginny, you'll be leading a team, you ought to go debrief and prep 'em." Harry looked over the map. "Even with all our people out there it's going to take a long time to comb these places. And before midnight? Fuck, it's gonna be a challenge." Harry sighed and waved Ginny away.

XxX

Draco didn't know what the time was. Time moved strangely in this hollow. The chanting had seemingly gone on for hours, but all too quickly it had stopped and he was chained to a stone slab that was summoned by one of the cloaked wizards.

He tried to resist, but all they had to do was hit him with one spell and he was stuck. They laid him out across the slab, chaining each one of his limbs to a point.

Gathering around him they vanished his clothes and began painting ruins on his now naked body with some kind of black sooty liquid. The brushes ran up and down him but he was unable to shy away, or giggle when they hit a ticklish spot.

Eventually they were done, and they left him chained to the stone in the centre of the ruin circle.

A flash of fear struck through Draco and his calm rationality began to disparate. Adrenaline flooded him body and he tried to fight against the spell holding him still; he was not in control of his body though and his internal battle went unnoticed as on the outside he was as still as ever.

His fighting intensified as the wizards started up their chanting, flames exploded from points in the circle and Draco silently shrieked as a ring of fire encased him.

The chanting reach high and higher volumes and the heat from the fire heated Draco body and he felt himself sweat. A swirl of something black flit across his view and looking down he caught sight of the painted ruins dancing across his body, pulsing and shrinking, swarming all over.

His panic reached new heights and he fully comprehended the demonic scene he was a part of.


	55. LV : Craft

**LV :Craft**

Draco looked up from his book at the knock at his study's door.

"Yes?"

The door was timidly opened and his only daughter's face appeared around the door.

"Hello Molly," he said, gently smiling.

She blushed and giggled, still outside with her head poked in. Draco resisted the temptation to laugh, and instead laid the book down on the desk.

Crooking a finger, he beckoned the girl inside. Still giggling, she inched in and pushed the door shut behind her.

"How can I help you?" he prompted, coming out from behind the desk and walking over to the seven year old girl before kneeling down.

"Dad_dy,_" she said, elongating the word.

"Yes?"

"Mummy's having a baby," she stated then fell into more giggles.

"She is." Draco wondered where this was going. He soon took it back at her question: "Where do babies come from?"

Draco paled but didn't panic. He and Ginny had had this question three times already and their answer was the same each time.

Walking the young girl over to the sofa, he sat her down before launching into his explanation.

"Well, when a wizard and witch love each other very much, in a special way, the woman and man go to a secret adult class where they make a special seed using glue, glitter and some other magical things," Draco said, forgetting part of the story and improvising, "and then they go home and the man puts this seed in the woman's belly button. Then they cover it over with chocolate spread and go to sleep. That's why all babies are so sweet, like you, because of the chocolate. Anyway, when they wake up in the morning the chocolate and seed have gone. Then, nine months later the woman will start feeling strange and she'll know the baby's coming, so the man and woman will go to the hospital. When she's ready, her belly button will grow bigger and bigger and then open. The Healer will reach in a take the baby out. Very easy."

Draco looked at her daughter and saw she understood; she was a Malfoy after all, complex ideas were easy for her to grasp.

"Okay Daddy," she said relaxed, "so it's a bit like my arts and crafts times?"

"You could say so," Draco weakly replied. "Molly honey, why do you ask?"

"Lucas and Lucrien asked me," she innocently replied.

_'The demon spawn,' _Draco growled to himself.

* * *

**So, this _could_ follow on from Seeking Peace, (Guilt) and More.**

**If you want it to.**

**:)**


	56. LVI : Misfortune

**LVI : Misfortune**

"Ooh, oh no oh no oh no. This is very bad indeed Mr Malfoy." Trelawney's sorrowful voice wailed.

Draco drummed his fingers on the armrest of the chair, feeling thoroughly bored. Recently Trelawney had taken to predicting his demise in every lesson and in ever perceivable way. Draco seemed to have his fair share of misfortune plaguing his life; if Trelawney was to be believed anyway.

"Oh no," Draco dully repeated. "It's not another case of Dragon Pox, is it? Or do I trip on a stair and plummet to my certain doom? Or, Merlin forbid, I swallow a Snitch and it 'flies about inside my body, ripping apart my innards and I die a slow and painful death with my life's blood spilling everywhere and staining the Quidditch pitch for all time'? I don't think I could live with another such prediction hanging over my head.

Draco didn't believe anyone could take Trelawney seriously when she kept pronouncing how he would die, each time differently. Unless she would later see him being constantly resurrected?

Though, as some of these deaths lead to him being in many pieces, resurrection would be a hard one to pull off.

Trelawney was shaking her head, her movements growing more and more extravagant with every proposed death that flowed from Draco's lips.

"No, no, none of those . . . you're going to fall in love!" she proclaimed.

_'Well, I wasn't banking on that, but I can't she why she would think that was all so bad.'_

"And then you'll both die in a fireball of heated passion!"

_'Ah, there it was.'_

_

* * *

_

**Oh, I do adore Trelawney so.**


	57. LVII : Plot

**LVII : Plot**

"He'll be leaving the building at exactly five thirty six. On the way out he'll turn left, and head down the road until he gets to the shop on the corner. There he will go in and buy a copy of the Evening Standard before heading down the alley to the right of the shop. All in all this will take him twelve minutes. You need to be in position from – at the latest – five forty. When he reaches the end of the alley he will Disapparate, so you need to get him before then. Portkey him out of there to the safe house and then get yourself out of their.

The girl will be easy, I'll take care of her myself."

The shadowy figures nodded, but said nothing, and then each one slowly backed away from the table in the middle of the darkened room until there was nothing . . . but a table.

XxX

"Blaise!" Ginny yelled, angrily banging on the stubbornly locked door. "Let us out you ass!"

"You know he won't until we talk," Draco commented, watching her from his laid out position on the sofa.

"I'm not talking to you!" Ginny shot back before resuming her banging.

"Oh, will you stop being so stubborn?" he said exasperated.

The last straw for Ginny. "Funny, you said that's one of the things you loved about me! And will you stop making out as if this is _my _fault? Because it isn't. It's yours."

"Mine?" he innocently asked.

"Yes, yours! If you hadn't have said I was beginning to turn into my mother, I wouldn't have kicked you out and Blaise wouldn't be plotting, trying to get everything back to how it was! Your fault."

"Wait- you kicked me out because of that?"

"You were calling me fat!"

"I meant you were becoming a better cook!"

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'."

In the silence the click of the lock could be heard.


	58. LVIII : Pen to Paper

**LVIII : Pen to Paper**

"From pens to paper, cars to schools, the Muggle world is as different to ours as can be. Your final exam will be based on how well you can blend into this environment. In the past four years of Muggle studies we have given you the tools to pass in the Muggle world." The teacher finished with a beam. This new way of grading Muggle Studies student's had been his idea and in his eyes it way the perfect test for the seventh – and in some cases sixth – years.

The only blight was Draco Malfoy.

His hand rose lazily into the air and without waiting to be called upon he began talking in his usual drawling and superior tone. "What do we do if we haven't had those four years of Muggle Studies? Our grades will be adjusted to take that into account I hope."

The teacher stumbled for a moment, in truth the boy raised a point he hadn't thought of. Luckily, he was a quick thinker and after a moment's pause, he landed on an answer.

"Your partners will help, you'll be paired up, those with four years of MS to those who only have two or three."

Unfortunately, Muggle Studies had never been that popular, and towards the end of the pairing process there were four students who only had ten years of Muggle Studies between them.

"Mr Malfoy and Zabini you will," the teacher stopped, uncomfortable with his only option. "You will be working with Miss Weasley and Match in a group of four."

Ignoring the looks and voiced objections, he gave them a pointed look before raising his voice and continuing. "Now, we've secured you either rooms, or flats in buildings where there will be a Mentor for you, someone to watch over you and make sure you don't get into too much trouble," here he gave a weak chuckle, "anyway, on the board are appointment times for you to come and see me next week. I'll go through some of the preparations you'll need and give you your work placements for instance." Taking one final look around the classroom he noted those with happy eager faces, those who were thoroughly uninterested and some who were trying to strike him down with their eyes. Ignoring Malfoy, he gave – what he hoped – was a supportive smile before dismissing them all.


	59. LIX : Stars

**LIX : Stars**

**_(preceded by previous Varc drabbles)_**

"_Con este lume e xofre ofrecer, ter no noso sacrificio e imos prosperar, causar-lle dor e sufrimento, no seu caso, só permitir que os nosos membros para pasar libremente. A través dos reinos ea través dos tempos, de volta ao lugar que desexamos, pasamos agora e imos cambiar, imos triunfar e imos gañar!"_

Draco felt his head harshly jerked up, and he faced the line of chanting wizards.

Or witches. With the hooded robes it was rather difficult to tell gender.

Their rasping chanting grew louder and louder, filling the evening's air with their words and powerful dark magic. The hollow they were in was in the middle of a shallow ditch, trees grew around, protecting the proceedings within. With the help flickering and crackling firelight, Draco was able to make out the trees high and spindly branches which intertwined and braided together, capturing darkness with their weaving and leaving light outside. Draco spun his eyes around, but all he could see were the towering trees, the fierce fire and the moaning magicians who had began pacing around the fire.

All in all, Draco decided it was a very cheese scene of Dark magic, usually put on show for children during Halloween. The only terrifying aspect of it was that it was real – and Draco was aware that he was going to soon be in pain.

A lot of it in fact.

The archaic language swirled around him, catching him with it's claws and pincers, and pulling him along into its mysterious magic making.

Draco was well versed in languages, and unfortunately he knew exactly what was being said. Unfortunate as he suspected not knowing you were about to be sacrificed was probably better than knowing you were. At least with ignorance you have moments of hope.

_'With this fire and brimstone offer, take our sacrifice and let us prosper,' _a ritualised burning then, Draco concluded. Draco frowned at his thoughts, but realised that this was not the time for irrational and panicky thoughts.

At the moment he was so calm it was scary.

Not as scary as the ritualised burning though.

XxX

Ginny had had four homes since her birth. The first was the Burrow, where she spent the first seventeen years of her life with her family. The second was Hogwarts, where she spent the majority of seven years with her friends. The third was the Auror training barracks, where she had signed up to stay after deciding to make the most of her training time. Living at the barracks allowed for ore training time and a chance to be one of the first to be called upon to assist. The final one was her flat. A plain one-bed place located above the top of a shop full of curiosities. Although plain, it was comfortable and for the amount of time Ginny spent in it, perfect. Her home had became a retreat from work, rare as it was for Ginny to need it. As usual, entering her home was a relief, where she could be or do whatever she liked. Like walk around naked or reading a smutty, trashy novel without anyone finding out.

As per tradition, her first desire was to bathe and so when Harry Floo'ed her she was about to peel off her clingy, sweaty, workout clothes and sink into the rapidly filling tub. The shrill cheery tone that rang out whenever she was being rung blared just as she had picked up her current read and placed it by the side of the tub.

Sighing lightly, Ginny padded through her flat into the living-room where her Floo was. Kneeling down before it she swallowed any annoyance and accepted the call.

"Ginny! Thank God! Look, we need you to come in right away, an emergency's came up." Harry looked distracted, and as he spoke he was signing forms and directing people around. His job as Head of Magical Law Enforcement had honed his skills at multi-tasking after his years of Director of the Auror's had created them.

Not even bothering to argue, Ginny nodded before hanging up and running into her bedroom to change. She couldn't have a wash, but a change of clothes ought to help the smell slightly.

As Ginny dressed she ran through the possibilities in her mind. She had just returned from a two week training course with some of the elite Aurors who were being prepared to move onto the DWD – the Dark Wizards Department, a place where only the best were selected to work, where they hunted down some of the worse the country had to offer. Ginny herself had spent time working there, three years to be precise, before moving on.

Dispelling the thoughts of her time in the DWD, Ginny returned to her original thoughts.

After the training course, she had taken some new recruits through their paces and watched as another set completed their final tests. Her last month had been full of physical action, enough to warrant a four day weekend which was supposed to have started tonight.

The only thing that would have made Harry call her back to her position was a major crisis; like a newly emerged Dark Lord, the assassination of the Minister, or a massacre.

Not having her mother of the Floo begging her to return to the Burrow made those three options look unlikely. Ginny slipped her cloak over her full battle robes. Whatever it was, she had no doubt there would be fighting involved by the end of the night.

XxX

After years of practice, Ginny could glide out of a fireplace like any lady of society. Unlike usual her entrance went unnoticed as she glided into the chaos that was the DoMLE. Casting a worried look around, Ginny wondered if maybe there was a Dark Lord and Molly just hadn't had time to work her way through her children, down to Ginny.

Striding through the department, gently – but firmly – moving people out of her way, Ginny made her way to the back of the department where the large conference room was located.

Through the unblocked windows Ginny could see that nearly every member of the senior DoMLE staff was there.

Harry was pacing back and forth, up and down past the table, while the others were pouring over spread out pieces of paper that filled the table top.

Ginny tuned out the hustle and bustle and entered the strangely quiet room. This time her appearance was greeted, albeit rushed.

"Ginny, great, you're here. Here's the sit. We've got a group of wizards calling themselves the Vultures who have kidnapped someone and are using 'em in a ritual to do something major." Harry pulled her over and directed her attention to a hastily scrawled note.

"Martin?"

The head of Intelligence glanced up. "What? Oh, right. We've got someone on the inside, we've been tracking the Vultures for awhile now, that's his note. Apparently the Vultures are planning on resurrecting the Dark Lord or preventing his death, something like that – our mole isn't high up enough to know more."

A woman peered up at Ginny through her narrow glasses, her bobbing head catching her attention. "Vultures take their name from the Vol 'flight' part of the Dark Lord's name, taking the bird idea, and the idea of death from the Death Eaters, creating this 'death bird' a vulture. Fascinating thought process these dark wizards have, absolutely fascinating." Returning to her work, the woman looked away, allowing Ginny to give Harry a questioning glance.

Bending down, he whispered in her ear; "Matilda from the Department of Chronicles. I don't know why she was sent, but she's supposed to be a good researcher."

Nodding in partial understanding, Ginny took a closer look at the note. "Have we got any idea about time or loco?" she asked aloud, at no-one in particular.

Martin answered. "A wood, midnight. Not much, but it's all we have. Matilda's searching the books, looking for any hints about the ritual, the rest of us are just trying to work through the information for a clue."

Ginny bitterly laughed. A wood at midnight? That gave them three hours and a fuckload of possibilities.

Harry sent her a reproving glare. "This is it people. No time for fun and games, we've got an innocent wizard out there with a group of people who are trying to bring back Voldemort. I want everyone pulled off holidays and I want teams being sent out to rec in twenty minutes or less. If you've got contacts, get 'em in and pump 'em. No beating around the bush with tactics and what have you. This shit just got real."

There was a pause at the end of Harry's words and Ginny took the chance to ask him one final question before getting her hands on her contact.

"What's the kidnap wizard's name?"

Pursing his lips, Harry glanced at the suddenly interested group before responding, "Draco Malfoy."

XxX

The Vultures were the Dark Lord's final servants. Left out of most meetings and raids, and unmarked, these chosen twelve were the last result if anything unexpected happened and the Dark Lord was . . . indisposed again.

For the first ten years the servants lived their lives as normal, most actually relieved the Dark Lord was dead.

Then the itching started and slowly, through the years, their bodies began to ache, their magic started to wane and no Healer had a cure, or even an idea of what was ailing them.

A few meetings had soon concluded that it was only they who were affected and rightly so they decided that their current predicament was some how caused by the Dark Lord. Further researched showed that as the Dark Lord's final servants they had a duty to fulfil; they had to continue to help him, even when he was dead.

This lead to anger from many of the group, who finally realised that they were damned if the Dark Lord was dead, and if he was alive. Their lives were good, peaceful and successful. The Dark Lord would ruin all that with his war and reign.

Nevertheless, they had to do what they could do. As they researched spells to resurrect, spells that could potentially bring their master back they noticed the bad affects lighten their hold and soon they were all feeling stronger than ever.

The Dark Lord's magic and power was intoxicating even when he was dead.

Tonight was the night when all their plans would be put into place. Their ruins were carved, the potion prepared and the sacrifice was ready.

After discovering that resurrection would never truly bring the Dark Lord back from the dead they settled on the next best thing: making sure he didn't die in the first place.

XxX

To most people in the dingy bar the couple in the corner looked like a strangely dressed hooker and a seedy client. The man was leant over, nursing a filthy mug filled with a murky brown liquid and it didn't seem to be his first. She was wearing to many clothes for the average street walker, but her sunken eyes and haggard expression lent to the idea that she was a woman who lived a hard life.

They were both huddled together, their heads close enough that their whispered conversation was unheard – a rarity in this place. His hands were wrapped around his drink, while she was obviously trying extra hard to coax him into life as her foot was resting on his leg, close to sliding into his crouch.

To the people who didn't fall for this imagine though, the truth was very different.

The hooker was dressed in battle robes, covered up by an cloak, the seedy man was one of the biggest information sellers on the market, the muted conversation was kept hidden from ears by a _Privato_ charm and the foot resting on the leg wasn't teasing but menacing. Unseen, at the end of the shoe, was a small sharp dagger coated in a paralysing poison. The foot wasn't playing but rather, it was holding the jewels hostage.

All in all, Ginny got her information fairly quickly. The threat of a paralysed genitalia worked wonders and Ginny was able to get her intelligence at a better rate than usual. A few tricks and the world opened its doors for you. Too easy sometimes.

XxX

The sky above him was rather interesting. The dark grey clouds billowed around, moving through the sky in a dance and wrapping themselves around their brothers and sister.

Entranced with the dance, Draco remembered the last time he was stuck, looking up at the night clouds.

_He had been leaving Knockturn Alley after picking up a parcel for a 'friend.' It was the early hours of the morning and most of the streets were dead; with his plain black cloak pulled tightly around him, Draco was nearly invisible in amongst the shadows of the tall eerily quiet buildings._

_His sharp eyes darted about, searching for anyone who may try to stop him. Even his eyes weren't good enough to see the invisible though, and Draco was caught unawares from behind. Dragged into a side street and thrown to the ground, Draco's head smashed back against the grimy floor and stunned him. That moment of weakness allowed his attacker a chance to freeze him and so he was left, lying on his back starring up at the one who held him._

_The attacked lowered their hood revealing an oval shaped head and long hair. They didn't light their wand, so Draco couldn't see any more._

"_In the middle of the morning and scurrying around like a rat? What are you hiding Mr Malfoy?" The feminine voice struck a chord in Draco, and he desperately tried to place it._

_The woman stepped closer and knelt down before patting him down. "You were seen picking something up from Madame Bluefont's, you were seen leaving and dropping something into your pocket as you did so." The voice idly chatted, completely relaxed._

_Draco assumed he had been taken by the Aurors. The ease in which she held herself meant she was either so strong that she didn't fear an attack from behind or that she had back-up in the street who would keep them undiscovered and disturbed._

"_Aha, what's this?" The woman finally found the thing he had been trying to keep hidden. Pulling the parcel out of one she held it for a moment before carefully unwrapping the paper._

_She lit the end of her wand and held it in her mouth, the lit end trained on the package. Quickly dismantling it she was surprised into silence._

"_It's a shrunken Mira Meow Piano; a toy for my goddaughter." Draco wasn't able to see the effect his words had on the woman, but he knew that he was now in control of the situation. "I think you need to unbind me," he commented, but was shocked when she just vanished. " Weasley?" he finished._

XxX

Ginny slid the door open to the conference room and slipped inside. The heads were still bent over the paperwork, but a new addition had been added. At one end of the room a large map of Britain had been blown up and stuck to it. It was covered in red circles – target areas – and some already had a black cross through them. Ginny saw how many circles still had to be checked out and hoped that she was about to save everyone a lot of time and effort.

"The ritual must be cast in a place of death magic, where Death leaves his final magic," she declared and heads snapped up to meet her eyes.

"What does that mean?" Martin quickly asked and Ginny could only shrug.

"I don't know, that's all my guy knows. Supposedly one of these Vultures is their research guy and he was working in the Great Library. Someone saw him rush out and he happened to drop a bit of paper. 'Nother guy picks it up and all he sees is that titbit before it's snatched out of his hand by the Vulture." Ginny finished and took a seat.

"Death magic?" Matilda pondered aloud. "I think . . . I think I know." She scanned the piles of books surrounding her and her eyes lit up when she caught sight of one. "Here!" Flipping the pages over she searched the text, explaining as she did so. "Dark Lord regularly attempted to cheat death, they created different enchantments, charms and rituals all designed to make them stronger, less vulnerable. Death magic is this magic," she paused, reading the text. "Here," she pointed and read:

'_Death magics are never anything but rituals of the darkest magics. Traditionally performed in very natural environments to contrast the unnatural designed effect, common places are woods as they offer a plethora of life matter that can strengthen the ritual. Offer places can include marshes and mountains, for although they may not offer as much life matter they are areas unconquered by man. Once utilised these places slowly begin to wither; creating areas where no life can be found. If full lifelessness is not achieved then these areas can be found as hosts for some of the deadliest and resilient plants and animals known to man.'_

"That's all there is," Matilda murmured, and began flipping through the book again, hoping for more information.

Harry strode over to the map. "That leaves us with about fifteen places to check out," he said as he began to cross through the woods that didn't fit the requirements.

"'Death leaves his final magic' could be, well, it could mean where the Dark Lords died," Ginny offered.

Harry chewed his lip. "I don't know, but it's all we have now. Andrews, Slintuh I need a list of any places where Dark Lords – or wizards – have died and if that place has a history of Dark magic or dead woods." The two wizards nodded and left.

"Ginny, you'll be leading a team, you ought to go debrief and prep 'em." Harry looked over the map. "Even with all our people out there it's going to take a long time to comb these places. And before midnight? Fuck, it's gonna be a challenge." Harry sighed and waved Ginny away.

XxX

Draco didn't know what the time was. Time moved strangely in this hollow. The chanting had seemingly gone on for hours, but all too quickly it had stopped and he was chained to a stone slab that was summoned by one of the cloaked wizards.

He tried to resist, but all they had to do was hit him with one spell and he was stuck. They laid him out across the slab, chaining each one of his limbs to a point.

Gathering around him they vanished his clothes and began painting ruins on his now naked body with some kind of black sooty liquid. The brushes ran up and down him but he was unable to shy away, or giggle when they hit a ticklish spot.

Eventually they were done, and they left him chained to the stone in the centre of the ruin circle.

A flash of fear struck through Draco and his calm rationality began to disparate. Adrenaline flooded him body and he tried to fight against the spell holding him still; he was not in control of his body though and his internal battle went unnoticed as on the outside he was as still as ever.

His fighting intensified as the wizards started up their chanting, flames exploded from points in the circle and Draco silently shrieked as a ring of fire encased him.

The chanting reach high and higher volumes and the heat from the fire heated Draco body and he felt himself sweat. A swirl of something black flit across his view and looking down he caught sight of the painted ruins dancing across his body, pulsing and shrinking, swarming all over.

His panic reached new heights and he fully comprehended the demonic scene he was a part of.

XxX

As dictated by protocol, Ginny and her team were trying their hardest to stealthy move through the wood. Their journey was hampered by the fact protocol also said they kept their wands unlit; not only to surprise their enemy but also to make sure their wands were ready for casting.

Moving stealthy though when the only light you really had was that from the stars, and there were bloody little twigs _everywhere_, was hard and Ginny's team were failing despite their best efforts.

Ginny halted, raising her arm, and felt her team freeze around her. The illuminated bracelets they all wore only showed up to other members of the team, so they'd be able to see where everyone was. Why they hadn't managed to fashion something using the same system so the team could see around them but the bad guys couldn't, Ginny didn't know. She regularly demanded something like it and Harry dutifully passed the message on, but there was always something else that needed the funding even more.

Motioning her hand in a circular fashion, Ginny gave the signal for the team to move in around her. When they had, she erected a small – but powerful – privacy shield around them. Still worried about being overheard, she spoke quietly.

"This is bull, I can't see where the hell I'm going and we're going to give ourselves away if we keep going on like this. I wanted a one-two-one pattern, starting from the outside. With half of us casting _Lumos_ – and dimly – we should have enough light to see by. Good?"

"But protocol-"

"Screw protocol O'Neil."

The guy looked like he wanted to say more but Ginny's glare silenced him. She nodded and waved the group away, dropping the shield at the same time.

They commenced their sweep of the forest, this time guided by the light from their wands as well as the twinkling stars above.

* * *

**Bit of Varc action.**


	60. LX : Judging

**LX : Judging**

The glances thrown our way won't bother us as we walk to the Great Hall; we'll ignore them and silently – strongly – walk together. Our hands that we'll clutch together will appear in a loose hold but we'll both know how tightly our grasps will be, both secretly terrified of being pulled apart.

The hurt and confused looks from my house will leave me feeling broken away from the people I've lived with for six years. Never again will I be able to sit at ease in the common room and chat with friends or other Gryffindors.

The blank masks that cover the faces of your house-mates hid their calculating and angry emotions and you'll never be able to relax in your house, you'll be constantly on the watch for a quietly thrown curse your way.

My family will not understand what draws me to you, why and how I would be able to set aside the taunts, insults and family history to see you.

Your family will no doubt be completely thrown, wondering what has happened to you, not understanding how you could go so against your childhood and traditions. At first they'll probably think that you've been hexed, or someone has done something to you. After that they'll be angry - your father more so than your mother – and I won't be surprised to find you on my doorstep in the middle of the night.

I knew all of that when I took your hand, and I hope you do too, because I've taken your hand, I've let you in and the last thing I want to do is let go.

People can have their judgements, I won't care, and I hope you won't either because at the moment the judgement doesn't bother me, but as soon as I have to take it on my own I know I'll bow beneath it.

So we'll walk silently to the Great Hall, holding hands and looking ahead, because we can no longer walk alone, can no longer look back. And, to tell you the truth, that scares me more than everything else.


	61. LXI : Hello

**LVI : Hello**

You're running down the corridor as fast as you can go but you're still going to be late. You're robes are billowing out from behind you in a manner that even Snape would be proud of and that stupid bag you're mother forced you to take to school is whacking you on the back of your legs _every flipping minute. _The smacking sound it elicits reminds you of that smacking sound you heard not too long ago, but you shake your head quickly, dispelling the images the sound conjures up; stumbling in on the sixth year Hufflepuff prefects was not in your morning plans.

Finally you've reached the ground floor and you slow down – not because you're near your destination but you haven't been running in a _long_ time and you've got a bloody stitch, and you really don't need a stitch because you really do need to run but you can't so it's now just fast walking which won't be good enough.

You groan, but console yourself with the fact that you were going to be late anyway, so what's a couple more minutes?

The bag continues to whack you so you pull it off and angrily hold it by the shoulder strap. You consider just dragging it behind you but it probably won't be able to withstand the mild wear and you don't have the money to replace it. If you did the bag would have been 'accidentally' destroyed in the first week and an owl sent home requesting money to buy a new one in Hogsmeade.

By now you're in the dungeons and you shudder at the thought of having to live down here like the Slytherins. There's hardly any light from the flickering flames that line the hallway and if anything it's made worse by the murky green light that filters in through the high, tiny windows. The musty smell is nothing like the clean and fresh smells that fill the other corridors and you wonder if they do that on purpose – the Slytherins – to keep people away.

It wouldn't surprise you.

You reach the door and pause. On the other side of the door is a monster so feared that people weep in it's presences, grown men turn to simple fools and women blush with embarrassment. A beast who sweeps down onto it's prey and devours them before they even realise they're in trouble. And you're about to walk into it's lair, freely and without some sort of danger pay.

Pushing open the door you prepare for the predator's deep silky noise to cascade upon you, and you pray that you can withstand it.

"Ah, hello Miss Weasley, I see you've decided to join us after all . . .'

And so the battle begins.


	62. LXII : Break Away

**LVII : Break Away**

**_(preceded by previous Varc drabbles)_**

"_Con este lume e xofre ofrecer, ter no noso sacrificio e imos prosperar, causar-lle dor e sufrimento, no seu caso, só permitir que os nosos membros para pasar libremente. A través dos reinos ea través dos tempos, de volta ao lugar que desexamos, pasamos agora e imos cambiar, imos triunfar e imos gañar!"_

Draco felt his head harshly jerked up, and he faced the line of chanting wizards.

Or witches. With the hooded robes it was rather difficult to tell gender.

Their rasping chanting grew louder and louder, filling the evening's air with their words and powerful dark magic. The hollow they were in was in the middle of a shallow ditch, trees grew around, protecting the proceedings within. With the help flickering and crackling firelight, Draco was able to make out the trees high and spindly branches which intertwined and braided together, capturing darkness with their weaving and leaving light outside. Draco spun his eyes around, but all he could see were the towering trees, the fierce fire and the moaning magicians who had began pacing around the fire.

All in all, Draco decided it was a very cheese scene of Dark magic, usually put on show for children during Halloween. The only terrifying aspect of it was that it was real – and Draco was aware that he was going to soon be in pain.

A lot of it in fact.

The archaic language swirled around him, catching him with it's claws and pincers, and pulling him along into its mysterious magic making.

Draco was well versed in languages, and unfortunately he knew exactly what was being said. Unfortunate as he suspected not knowing you were about to be sacrificed was probably better than knowing you were. At least with ignorance you have moments of hope.

_'With this fire and brimstone offer, take our sacrifice and let us prosper,' _a ritualised burning then, Draco concluded. Draco frowned at his thoughts, but realised that this was not the time for irrational and panicky thoughts.

At the moment he was so calm it was scary.

Not as scary as the ritualised burning though.

XxX

Ginny had had four homes since her birth. The first was the Burrow, where she spent the first seventeen years of her life with her family. The second was Hogwarts, where she spent the majority of seven years with her friends. The third was the Auror training barracks, where she had signed up to stay after deciding to make the most of her training time. Living at the barracks allowed for ore training time and a chance to be one of the first to be called upon to assist. The final one was her flat. A plain one-bed place located above the top of a shop full of curiosities. Although plain, it was comfortable and for the amount of time Ginny spent in it, perfect. Her home had became a retreat from work, rare as it was for Ginny to need it. As usual, entering her home was a relief, where she could be or do whatever she liked. Like walk around naked or reading a smutty, trashy novel without anyone finding out.

As per tradition, her first desire was to bathe and so when Harry Floo'ed her she was about to peel off her clingy, sweaty, workout clothes and sink into the rapidly filling tub. The shrill cheery tone that rang out whenever she was being rung blared just as she had picked up her current read and placed it by the side of the tub.

Sighing lightly, Ginny padded through her flat into the living-room where her Floo was. Kneeling down before it she swallowed any annoyance and accepted the call.

"Ginny! Thank God! Look, we need you to come in right away, an emergency's came up." Harry looked distracted, and as he spoke he was signing forms and directing people around. His job as Head of Magical Law Enforcement had honed his skills at multi-tasking after his years of Director of the Auror's had created them.

Not even bothering to argue, Ginny nodded before hanging up and running into her bedroom to change. She couldn't have a wash, but a change of clothes ought to help the smell slightly.

As Ginny dressed she ran through the possibilities in her mind. She had just returned from a two week training course with some of the elite Aurors who were being prepared to move onto the DWD – the Dark Wizards Department, a place where only the best were selected to work, where they hunted down some of the worse the country had to offer. Ginny herself had spent time working there, three years to be precise, before moving on.

Dispelling the thoughts of her time in the DWD, Ginny returned to her original thoughts.

After the training course, she had taken some new recruits through their paces and watched as another set completed their final tests. Her last month had been full of physical action, enough to warrant a four day weekend which was supposed to have started tonight.

The only thing that would have made Harry call her back to her position was a major crisis; like a newly emerged Dark Lord, the assassination of the Minister, or a massacre.

Not having her mother of the Floo begging her to return to the Burrow made those three options look unlikely. Ginny slipped her cloak over her full battle robes. Whatever it was, she had no doubt there would be fighting involved by the end of the night.

XxX

After years of practice, Ginny could glide out of a fireplace like any lady of society. Unlike usual her entrance went unnoticed as she glided into the chaos that was the DoMLE. Casting a worried look around, Ginny wondered if maybe there was a Dark Lord and Molly just hadn't had time to work her way through her children, down to Ginny.

Striding through the department, gently – but firmly – moving people out of her way, Ginny made her way to the back of the department where the large conference room was located.

Through the unblocked windows Ginny could see that nearly every member of the senior DoMLE staff was there.

Harry was pacing back and forth, up and down past the table, while the others were pouring over spread out pieces of paper that filled the table top.

Ginny tuned out the hustle and bustle and entered the strangely quiet room. This time her appearance was greeted, albeit rushed.

"Ginny, great, you're here. Here's the sit. We've got a group of wizards calling themselves the Vultures who have kidnapped someone and are using 'em in a ritual to do something major." Harry pulled her over and directed her attention to a hastily scrawled note.

"Martin?"

The head of Intelligence glanced up. "What? Oh, right. We've got someone on the inside, we've been tracking the Vultures for awhile now, that's his note. Apparently the Vultures are planning on resurrecting the Dark Lord or preventing his death, something like that – our mole isn't high up enough to know more."

A woman peered up at Ginny through her narrow glasses, her bobbing head catching her attention. "Vultures take their name from the Vol 'flight' part of the Dark Lord's name, taking the bird idea, and the idea of death from the Death Eaters, creating this 'death bird' a vulture. Fascinating thought process these dark wizards have, absolutely fascinating." Returning to her work, the woman looked away, allowing Ginny to give Harry a questioning glance.

Bending down, he whispered in her ear; "Matilda from the Department of Chronicles. I don't know why she was sent, but she's supposed to be a good researcher."

Nodding in partial understanding, Ginny took a closer look at the note. "Have we got any idea about time or loco?" she asked aloud, at no-one in particular.

Martin answered. "A wood, midnight. Not much, but it's all we have. Matilda's searching the books, looking for any hints about the ritual, the rest of us are just trying to work through the information for a clue."

Ginny bitterly laughed. A wood at midnight? That gave them three hours and a fuckload of possibilities.

Harry sent her a reproving glare. "This is it people. No time for fun and games, we've got an innocent wizard out there with a group of people who are trying to bring back Voldemort. I want everyone pulled off holidays and I want teams being sent out to rec in twenty minutes or less. If you've got contacts, get 'em in and pump 'em. No beating around the bush with tactics and what have you. This shit just got real."

There was a pause at the end of Harry's words and Ginny took the chance to ask him one final question before getting her hands on her contact.

"What's the kidnap wizard's name?"

Pursing his lips, Harry glanced at the suddenly interested group before responding, "Draco Malfoy."

XxX

The Vultures were the Dark Lord's final servants. Left out of most meetings and raids, and unmarked, these chosen twelve were the last result if anything unexpected happened and the Dark Lord was . . . indisposed again.

For the first ten years the servants lived their lives as normal, most actually relieved the Dark Lord was dead.

Then the itching started and slowly, through the years, their bodies began to ache, their magic started to wane and no Healer had a cure, or even an idea of what was ailing them.

A few meetings had soon concluded that it was only they who were affected and rightly so they decided that their current predicament was some how caused by the Dark Lord. Further researched showed that as the Dark Lord's final servants they had a duty to fulfil; they had to continue to help him, even when he was dead.

This lead to anger from many of the group, who finally realised that they were damned if the Dark Lord was dead, and if he was alive. Their lives were good, peaceful and successful. The Dark Lord would ruin all that with his war and reign.

Nevertheless, they had to do what they could do. As they researched spells to resurrect, spells that could potentially bring their master back they noticed the bad affects lighten their hold and soon they were all feeling stronger than ever.

The Dark Lord's magic and power was intoxicating even when he was dead.

Tonight was the night when all their plans would be put into place. Their ruins were carved, the potion prepared and the sacrifice was ready.

After discovering that resurrection would never truly bring the Dark Lord back from the dead they settled on the next best thing: making sure he didn't die in the first place.

XxX

To most people in the dingy bar the couple in the corner looked like a strangely dressed hooker and a seedy client. The man was leant over, nursing a filthy mug filled with a murky brown liquid and it didn't seem to be his first. She was wearing to many clothes for the average street walker, but her sunken eyes and haggard expression lent to the idea that she was a woman who lived a hard life.

They were both huddled together, their heads close enough that their whispered conversation was unheard – a rarity in this place. His hands were wrapped around his drink, while she was obviously trying extra hard to coax him into life as her foot was resting on his leg, close to sliding into his crouch.

To the people who didn't fall for this imagine though, the truth was very different.

The hooker was dressed in battle robes, covered up by an cloak, the seedy man was one of the biggest information sellers on the market, the muted conversation was kept hidden from ears by a _Privato_ charm and the foot resting on the leg wasn't teasing but menacing. Unseen, at the end of the shoe, was a small sharp dagger coated in a paralysing poison. The foot wasn't playing but rather, it was holding the jewels hostage.

All in all, Ginny got her information fairly quickly. The threat of a paralysed genitalia worked wonders and Ginny was able to get her intelligence at a better rate than usual. A few tricks and the world opened its doors for you. Too easy sometimes.

XxX

The sky above him was rather interesting. The dark grey clouds billowed around, moving through the sky in a dance and wrapping themselves around their brothers and sister.

Entranced with the dance, Draco remembered the last time he was stuck, looking up at the night clouds.

_He had been leaving Knockturn Alley after picking up a parcel for a 'friend.' It was the early hours of the morning and most of the streets were dead; with his plain black cloak pulled tightly around him, Draco was nearly invisible in amongst the shadows of the tall eerily quiet buildings._

_His sharp eyes darted about, searching for anyone who may try to stop him. Even his eyes weren't good enough to see the invisible though, and Draco was caught unawares from behind. Dragged into a side street and thrown to the ground, Draco's head smashed back against the grimy floor and stunned him. That moment of weakness allowed his attacker a chance to freeze him and so he was left, lying on his back starring up at the one who held him._

_The attacked lowered their hood revealing an oval shaped head and long hair. They didn't light their wand, so Draco couldn't see any more._

"_In the middle of the morning and scurrying around like a rat? What are you hiding Mr Malfoy?" The feminine voice struck a chord in Draco, and he desperately tried to place it._

_The woman stepped closer and knelt down before patting him down. "You were seen picking something up from Madame Bluefont's, you were seen leaving and dropping something into your pocket as you did so." The voice idly chatted, completely relaxed._

_Draco assumed he had been taken by the Aurors. The ease in which she held herself meant she was either so strong that she didn't fear an attack from behind or that she had back-up in the street who would keep them undiscovered and disturbed._

"_Aha, what's this?" The woman finally found the thing he had been trying to keep hidden. Pulling the parcel out of one she held it for a moment before carefully unwrapping the paper._

_She lit the end of her wand and held it in her mouth, the lit end trained on the package. Quickly dismantling it she was surprised into silence._

"_It's a shrunken Mira Meow Piano; a toy for my goddaughter." Draco wasn't able to see the effect his words had on the woman, but he knew that he was now in control of the situation. "I think you need to unbind me," he commented, but was shocked when she just vanished. " Weasley?" he finished._

XxX

Ginny slid the door open to the conference room and slipped inside. The heads were still bent over the paperwork, but a new addition had been added. At one end of the room a large map of Britain had been blown up and stuck to it. It was covered in red circles – target areas – and some already had a black cross through them. Ginny saw how many circles still had to be checked out and hoped that she was about to save everyone a lot of time and effort.

"The ritual must be cast in a place of death magic, where Death leaves his final magic," she declared and heads snapped up to meet her eyes.

"What does that mean?" Martin quickly asked and Ginny could only shrug.

"I don't know, that's all my guy knows. Supposedly one of these Vultures is their research guy and he was working in the Great Library. Someone saw him rush out and he happened to drop a bit of paper. 'Nother guy picks it up and all he sees is that titbit before it's snatched out of his hand by the Vulture." Ginny finished and took a seat.

"Death magic?" Matilda pondered aloud. "I think . . . I think I know." She scanned the piles of books surrounding her and her eyes lit up when she caught sight of one. "Here!" Flipping the pages over she searched the text, explaining as she did so. "Dark Lord regularly attempted to cheat death, they created different enchantments, charms and rituals all designed to make them stronger, less vulnerable. Death magic is this magic," she paused, reading the text. "Here," she pointed and read:

'_Death magics are never anything but rituals of the darkest magics. Traditionally performed in very natural environments to contrast the unnatural designed effect, common places are woods as they offer a plethora of life matter that can strengthen the ritual. Offer places can include marshes and mountains, for although they may not offer as much life matter they are areas unconquered by man. Once utilised these places slowly begin to wither; creating areas where no life can be found. If full lifelessness is not achieved then these areas can be found as hosts for some of the deadliest and resilient plants and animals known to man.'_

"That's all there is," Matilda murmured, and began flipping through the book again, hoping for more information.

Harry strode over to the map. "That leaves us with about fifteen places to check out," he said as he began to cross through the woods that didn't fit the requirements.

"'Death leaves his final magic' could be, well, it could mean where the Dark Lords died," Ginny offered.

Harry chewed his lip. "I don't know, but it's all we have now. Andrews, Slintuh I need a list of any places where Dark Lords – or wizards – have died and if that place has a history of Dark magic or dead woods." The two wizards nodded and left.

"Ginny, you'll be leading a team, you ought to go debrief and prep 'em." Harry looked over the map. "Even with all our people out there it's going to take a long time to comb these places. And before midnight? Fuck, it's gonna be a challenge." Harry sighed and waved Ginny away.

XxX

Draco didn't know what the time was. Time moved strangely in this hollow. The chanting had seemingly gone on for hours, but all too quickly it had stopped and he was chained to a stone slab that was summoned by one of the cloaked wizards.

He tried to resist, but all they had to do was hit him with one spell and he was stuck. They laid him out across the slab, chaining each one of his limbs to a point.

Gathering around him they vanished his clothes and began painting ruins on his now naked body with some kind of black sooty liquid. The brushes ran up and down him but he was unable to shy away, or giggle when they hit a ticklish spot.

Eventually they were done, and they left him chained to the stone in the centre of the ruin circle.

A flash of fear struck through Draco and his calm rationality began to disparate. Adrenaline flooded him body and he tried to fight against the spell holding him still; he was not in control of his body though and his internal battle went unnoticed as on the outside he was as still as ever.

His fighting intensified as the wizards started up their chanting, flames exploded from points in the circle and Draco silently shrieked as a ring of fire encased him.

The chanting reach high and higher volumes and the heat from the fire heated Draco body and he felt himself sweat. A swirl of something black flit across his view and looking down he caught sight of the painted ruins dancing across his body, pulsing and shrinking, swarming all over.

His panic reached new heights and he fully comprehended the demonic scene he was a part of.

XxX

As dictated by protocol, Ginny and her team were trying their hardest to stealthy move through the wood. Their journey was hampered by the fact protocol also said they kept their wands unlit; not only to surprise their enemy but also to make sure their wands were ready for casting.

Moving stealthy though when the only light you really had was that from the stars, and there were bloody little twigs _everywhere_, was hard and Ginny's team were failing despite their best efforts.

Ginny halted, raising her arm, and felt her team freeze around her. The illuminated bracelets they all wore only showed up to other members of the team, so they'd be able to see where everyone was. Why they hadn't managed to fashion something using the same system so the team could see around them but the bad guys couldn't, Ginny didn't know. She regularly demanded something like it and Harry dutifully passed the message on, but there was always something else that needed the funding even more.

Motioning her hand in a circular fashion, Ginny gave the signal for the team to move in around her. When they had, she erected a small – but powerful – privacy shield around them. Still worried about being overheard, she spoke quietly.

"This is bull, I can't see where the hell I'm going and we're going to give ourselves away if we keep going on like this. I wanted a one-two-one pattern, starting from the outside. With half of us casting _Lumos_ – and dimly – we should have enough light to see by. Good?"

"But protocol-"

"Screw protocol O'Neil."

The guy looked like he wanted to say more but Ginny's glare silenced him. She nodded and waved the group away, dropping the shield at the same time.

They commenced their sweep of the forest, this time guided by the light from their wands as well as the twinkling stars above.

XxX

They stumbled onto the crazed Dark Wizards about an hour into their search. As she was in front of the diamond formation Ginny was the first to catch sight of them.

They saw the lit area and headed towards it on sight; as they grew closer they fell from their formation into a roughly straight line at Ginny's signal.

Crouching down they drew closer, and without being told all wands were extinguished and held ready for action.

Tapping her badge thrice, Ginny sent a message back to headquarters, warning them that she thought she had the site. In six minutes another three teams of trained wizards would be in the area and then they would take down whoever needed to be taken down.

All Ginny needed was six minutes but fate was against her.

Peering through the trees and bushes, Ginny saw the flames and heard the chants. The heavy and putrid feel of Dark magic filled the air and she felt a film of the filthy magic coated her skin.

Shuddering she continued to watch, waiting for the other teams, but the turn of events scuppered that plan.

All the wizards dropped down to their knees and revealed a naked wizard chained to a slab of stone in the middle. One wizard stayed standing however, and he was the cause for concern as he was holding a flaming torch.

Ginny didn't know if he was going to use it now or later, and that uncertainty meant she had to act _now. _Checking her watch she saw the other teams wouldn't be there for another two minutes.

Inwardly sighing and hoping this wouldn't lead to another write up, Ginny lifted her hand into the air and gently waved it, catching the attention of her team. They all saw what was going on and would know what she was indicating.

Pumping her hand forward twice, she began counting to ten. In ten seconds her team ought to be in place and they would attack.

_'Ready or not,'_ Ginny thought as she reached nine, and on ten she jumped into action.

She broke through the treeline, her wand already out in front of her. "_Horenzo!_" she roared, not bothering to wait for the bright orange spell to connect before moving on; the wizard wouldn't have time to shield, especially at her surprise back attack.

"_Fluner, Jigolio, Curn!" _Ginny chanted without pause, choosing a target and chain flinging spells at them. Diving out of the way of an putrid blue spell, Ginny fell hard on the floor and rolled, already preparing a shield as she sprung back up. Pushing all her strength into it, she ran forward, resulting to knocking out the next wizard who got into her way instead of dropping her shield.

Reaching the centre she broke the chains with a simple spell and yanked Malfoy off the slab and out of the way of an incoming spell. Dropping down she tugged him along in to the woods, breaking away from the fighting.


	63. LXIII : Giving

**LXIII : Giving**

The four students were waiting outside the classroom door, boys on one side, girls on the other. Flinging the door open, the teacher quickly noticed the tension and anger, bubbling on both sides.

"Well, would you like to come in?" he brightly invited.

Malfoy and Zabini lead the way, gliding in, leaving the two girls to trudge in behind them.

"Take a seat, take a seat," he said, as he rummaged on his desk for something. "Here we go!" he exclaimed, holding up a plain brown file.

"Now, you four will be sharing a flat in a very pretty city named Newcastle. Madeline, you and Blaise will both be students at the local college and we've enrolled you both on a French language course for beginners. Our options are rather limited with your lack of knowledge most Muggle students would know. Ginny and Draco, you will both be working in a very nice, family ran café, a job your mentor has set up. About her, her name is Vera and she's in her late fifties. Vera is very, honest and, _giving_. She helps out at the local church and volunteers at many different charity shops. You will be expected to help her occasionally. Very nice lady though, she's done a lot to make your exam period go as well as possible."

Despite their misgivings about their group, the four students listened intently – though it was hard to tell with some of them . . .

The teacher continued talking, handing them maps of their new local area, information about the college for Blaise and Madeline, and basic cooking techniques for Draco and Ginny. By the end of the session, the quartet were bogged down with sheets and sheets.

"Right then! I'll see you next Sunday. Meet me here with your luggage and I'll take you to your new home for the month!"


	64. LXIV : Competitor

**LVIV : Competitor**

"Aaaaaand in the red, flying the latest Fireboltling, a broom which can achieve top speeds of twoooo hundred and eeeiiighty is Mister, Harry Potttttter!" the booming voice rang out across the stadium, and the crowd hushed, awaiting his next announcement.

"Harry Potter, current champion, will be facing a new face, a man who has stayed in the shadows, waiting for his chance to strike, biding his time, honing his . . ."

Ginny came running out onto the pitch. Reaching Draco she grasped hold of his robes and in between breathes, pleaded with him. "Draco, you don't have to do this! I got over Harry long ago! You could _die_ Draco. It's happened y'know! If not the harpies, then maybe the dragon, and if not the dragon, maybe the Porshpig will get you!"

Draco's unperturbed look held straight.

"This is so childish! You are acting-" Ginny broke off as Draco pulled her in a ravaged her lips in front of thousands of spectators.

"This isn't just a game, Potter left you heartbroken and I'm going to make him pay. You didn't want him physically hurt, and I've left his money alone. I'm going after his pride Ginny, and you're lucky I'm being so nice." Placing one last kiss on her lips, he pushed her away and mounted his broom.

" . . . becoming the best he could, for this very moment! May I introduce to you, our competitor in the emerald green, Mister, Draco Malfoy!"

* * *

**A/N **It was fun, okay?


	65. LXV : Surface

**LVX : Surface**

The sweat coated Ginny's body, and made her hold on the ridge even harder. Peering down she gulped at the sight of complete darkness before swallowing her fear and putting on her face of determination.

"Weasley!"

Ginny could hear her name being called and a shot of hope lit up inside her. "Over here!" she cried.

Running footsteps could be heard heading towards her and Ginny shouted again.

A familiar face appeared over the edge and, although their animosity on the trip was well known, Ginny would not have said a bad word about him right now.

"Malfoy," Ginny started as he pulled out his wand to help her. As usual he ignored her and he prepared to cast. Without thinking about it, Ginny reached up and batted his wand out of his hand. Her sudden movement and loss of support left her clamouring to stay holding on and her fear burst out of her and for the first time she accepted that she might die.

"Magic causes floor to drop!" she yelled desperately.

Catching on instantly, Draco mutely reached down and grasped Ginny's free hand and tugged her back up.

Collapsing together in a huddle near the edge, Ginny held onto Draco as if she would never be able to let go.

"Thank you," she sobbed, relieved to be back on a flat surface again.


	66. LXVI : Dark

**LXVI : Dark**

Draco waved the raving lunatic away and a flick of his wand caused the door to swing shut behind him soundly.

Massaging his head, Draco wondered why he had accepted this job.

Oh yes, there it was, this was a stepping stone for a much better job and all he had to do was sit it out until Baggs retired and the old man's job would be his. Along with his political sway.

A head poked around his door, breaking him from his musings. "The next one's here to see you Mr Malfoy," his secretary announced, before disappearing.

Draco only had a moment to compose himself before his next 'appointment' walked in.

She looked to be in her late thirties, with a well worn tanned face, big frizzy hair which was piled on top of her head with the help of a colourful scarf, small narrow eyes and large plain lips.

"Mr Malfoy! I'm Sun Shine and it's a pleasure to meet you. Straight into business!" The woman launched into some inane background information giving Draco time to recover from his reeling shock.

" . . . Which is why we ask- nay, _demand_ – that the classifications of 'Light' and 'Dark' magic are changed!"

"I'm sorry, why did you want this?"

"Because it is unequal!" Each word was punctuated with a swift smacking of her fist against her open palm. "We should not discriminate or divide people based on the magic they prefer to use!"

"And what do you think we should change it to?"

"Dumbledore magic, and Voldemort magic," she proclaimed proudly.

Draco internally spluttered. "Do you realise the sort of outcry that will cause-"

"-Exactly! This world-"

Draco stood, using his height to his advantage and spoke over the woman. "-and further more you would still be dividing people with this silly Dumbledore and Voldemort nonsense!"

Sun Shine looked taken back and gulped before rallying herself.

"Mr Malfoy-" she started with, but was cut off.

"Application to put forward an appeal before the Wizengamot, denied."

* * *

**I'm just writing whatever I think of first now. **

**Varc will be woefully concluded in drabble#80 : waiting.**

**The arc that kinda just started probably won't have anything added to it.**

**Thanks for the reviews. ^_^**


	67. LXVII : Taste

**LXVII : Taste**

"Sixty seven, taste, and her lack of. I can't be seen with a girl who doesn't know what coloured earrings would go better with my tie. My mother would look as if she ingested Belladonna." Draco made another marking on his quickly filling parchment of Ginny's perceived faults.

Blaise continued reading his book and, as he had been doing after every point Draco made, replied: "So why are you dating her?"

This time however, he received an answer.

"Because I don't think they're faults."


	68. LXVIII : Fixed

**LXVIII : Fixed**

The room faced the west; the setting sun could be seen from the floor length windows that lined the far wall. The sun cast a warming glow across the country, bathing everything in a pleasant light. Outside noises could mutely be heard, their sound penetrating the warm devoid room. She sat in this still room with her back to the door. Her hair was perfect as always, pulled up and coiffed to frame her unmarked face. Staring straight ahead, she paid no attention to the softly opened door, or the footsteps that quietly fell as he crossed the room.

When he reached her he knelt down and took one of her small, pale hands in his.

"Ginny? Are you well?"

"Draco?" she said in an eerily calm voice. "I think I need to be fixed."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry Karla. :P**


	69. LXIX : Hate

**LXIX : Hate**

**Name: Ginny Weasley**

**Class: Philosophy and Ethics**

**Date: 27th March**

**Question: _What is hate?_**

Hate, strongly disliking something. Arguable opposite, love. Hate can be aimed at anyone – or thing – and can be used used as a noun, examples:

'When Draco Malfoy ran into _me_, I yelled at him and told him to watch where he was going. His usually cool disinterest was replaced by intense feelings of loathing, these were readily shown when he gave me a look filled with pure **hate**.'

'One of my **hates **is sharing a detention with someone I don't get on with. When I had to share a detention with Draco Malfoy, I knew the evening would be horrible and would likely descend into an argument and then silence.'

The word 'hate' can also be used as a verb, examples:

'I **hated** Draco Malfoy when I first met him, he was obnoxious, petty and insulted nearly everything. After sharing many detentions with him, I got to know him better. He continued to be obnoxious, petty and insulting, but it wasn't so unbearable. We started calling each other by our first names and my brother found out he demanded to know when I had stopped **hating** Draco.'

**Question: _What is love?_**

Love, strongly liking something. Arguable opposite, hate. Love can be hard to accept and understand, and like hate can be aimed at anyone and thing.

As a noun:

'"Hello **love**, how did your brother take the news?"'

'I began to meet my **love** by the spare classrooms on the fifth floor, every other night, around eight. We would spend a couple of hours together, normally just talking.'

As a verb:

'**Loving** Draco Malfoy takes a lot out of you, especially if your families hate each other. I was the victim of insults, hexes and questions from my family, doubting my sanity – or checking to make sure I wasn't under some kind of curse.'

'I **loved** the Draco I knew and wished others got to see him.'

'I want him to make** love** to me.'

'I don't know if I **love** him. I think I do, but I'm only sixteen, what do I know?'

_**Miss Weasley, while I like the way you have set out your answers, I feel this response is too **__**personal for your written exam and would advise you to come up with some formal replies. You've performed extremely well in this new course, and I would hate to see you fall at the last hurdle.**_


	70. LXX : Time

**LXX : Time**

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

"Four."

"Five."

"Six."

"Seven."

"Eight."

"Nine."

"Ten."

"Eleven."

"Twelve."

"Thirteen."

"Fourteen."

"Fifteen."

. . .

"Four hundred and eighty one."

"Four hundred and eighty two."

"Four hundred and eighty three."

"Four hundred and eighty four."

"Four hundred and eighty five."

"Four hundred and eighty six."

"Four hundred and eighty seven."

"Four hundred and eighty eight."

"Four hundred and eighty nine."

"Four hundred and ninety!"

"Four hundred and ninety one!"

"Four hundred and ninety two!"

"Four hundred and ninety three!"

"Four hundred and ninety four!"

"Four hundred and ninety five!"

"Four hundred and ninety six!"

"Four hundred and ninety seven!"

"Four hundred and ninety eight!"

"Four hundred and ninety nine!"

"FIVE HUNDRED! Ready or not, here I come!" With that the small red headed child bounded off, unaware of the mirthful adults who had been watching her dutifully count up to five hundred without stopping or peeking.

"We need to change that," Draco mused, "otherwise she'll never get into Slytherin."


	71. LXXI : Sorrow

**LXXI : Sorrow**

He lies in the snow, regretful, distraught, sad?

The grave in front of him rises up out of the ground, it's greyness a bleak smudge on the pure white scene, it stands in the snow, tall, proud, unforgiving?

The dying flowers held a vigil for this stone plaque until time caught up with them and caused them to wither, putrefy, shrivel?

The sun is high up in the sky, it's light so soft that the land seems to have an unearthly glow, radiance, brilliance?

Framing his face, his hair is unwashed, unbrushed and untidy, falling with no control, direction, order?

His eyes are shut tightly against the world, the small creases at the edge of his eyes betraying the intensity of which they are shut, closed, held together?

Mouth open in a silent scream, hands clenched and pulled in close, body bent, all drawn in together, pathetic, child-like, broken?

Just one word to describe the image; sorrow.


	72. LXXII : Take My Hand

**Take My Hand**

Ginny ran as fast as she could, her tight hold on Draco Malfoy's hand ensured that he followed her but his weight also pulled Ginny back.

"Malfoy!" she hissed as loud as she dared, worried about followers, "Can't you run any faster?"

"Not barefoot you idiot!" he tersely replied and Ginny stopped, inwardly berating herself for being so stupid.

"One sec," she said before conjuring him a basic pair of trainers. "Better?" she asked as she took off again.

They ran for about another ten minutes until they reached another clearing and Ginny decided they were in the clear.

"_Lumosic,_" she absent-mindedly cast, creating three balls of light which hanged in the air just above their heads.

"Weasley?" Draco asked, surprised at his rescuer.

Ginny grinned. "That's right, Malfoy."

Draco regarded her for a moment before responding. "Thank you for your help. Before we head back to civilisation however, would you consider providing me with a robe?"

It was then Ginny noticed Draco's naked body which, because of their hazardous run through the wood, was covered in many tiny scratches and marks.

Draco noticed Ginny's look and smirked. "Like the look of what you see Weasley? It's even better when not cut and marked." The hint was evident in his voice.

"Not my department Malfoy, we'll find you a Healer later." Ginny decided ignoring his comments was the best route and turned away from him to create something robe-like. Her efforts weren't brilliant, but, _'at least he's covered_' Ginny thought. Harry wouldn't be happy if Malfoy had one slightest complaint. He disliked the man but while Draco had as much power he did in the Ministry, Harry would have to play nice. Ginny frowned at the thought; she too was aware that sometimes you had to be good unfortunately, unlike Harry, she would rather mouth off than kiss someone's ass.

Ginny shook the thoughts away, there was plenty of time to complain about politics, but not while on a mission.

"You ready to go Malfoy?" she asked instead.

"Yes," he replied simply, waiting for the Portkey.

He was unprepared for the hand Ginny extended. "No Portkey?"

"Didn't have time, I'll side-along you," Ginny explained, "we'll head straight for the department and have a Healer and a couple of guys take a look at you."

Draco still didn't move.

"Take my hand Malfoy!" Ginny angrily commanded. "We don't have time for this. You scared of my hand or something?" Ginny snapped.

That seemed to make up his mind and he stepped forward to take her hand for the second time that evening. Ginny tugged him closer and closed her eyes, picturing their destination in her mind before disapparating.

* * *

**A/N: I'm assuming you remembered last time what happened in Varc? 'Tis a continuation. **

**Thanks for the reviews! **


	73. LXXIII : Pulse

**LXXIII : Pulse**

"Ginny . . . what is this?" Draco looked down at the bowl filled with tiny little orange pods.

"They're lentils," Ginny proudly declared, "I was looking in the _Big Book of Food Knowledge_ and it listed lentils as good for people at risk of coronary heart disease."

"But we're wizards. We have magic. We don't have coronary heart disease."

"Just because we have magic, we shouldn't depend on it! It's better to not have the disease in the first place!"

"What does the disease do anyway?"

Ginny paused. "Well, I don't know but it must be bad. It does bad things."

"Bad things," Draco repeated blankly.

"Yes, bad things! So," she prodded, "eat your lentils."

Draco picked up the spoon and scooped up a small pile. Placing them in his mouth he tried to chew but they were too crunchy so he settled for swallowing them whole. "They haven't exactly got a taste, do they?" he commented.

Turning to Ginny, Draco noticed she was reading the _Big Book of Food Knowledge_.

"Oh."

"Ginny?"

"Apparently you're not supposed to eat them raw."


	74. LXXIV : Illusion

**LXXIV : Illusion**

"Shit, shit, shit, shit." Ginny chanted as she ran out of the dorm and barrelled down the stairs, pushing past an unsuspecting second year and sending them reeling.

"Ginny!" Hermione cried in shock, but Ginny didn't pause, running out of the Gryffindor common room at full speed.

Down the corridor she ran, her black hair streaming out behind her. As her shoes began pinching and her shirt started straining, she pushed herself harder, jumping down the stairs to the surprise of students ascending them.

The top two buttons of her shirt popped off, and her suddenly fuller chest was revealed to the school. Luckily, the hallway she had just turned down was empty and she was able to make her way to an abandoned classroom without meeting anyone.

Diving into the room she slammed the door shut.

"You're cutting it close, aren't you?" The red headed Daphne snidely commented, her own shoes hanging off her feet and skirt starting to slip off her hips.

"That bloody dorm mate of yours refused to let me go before I heard every detail of her midnight rendezvous with that sixth year Puff she's had her eye on for the past year," she explained while pulling off her clothes. Daphne did the same.

"Ready to be Slytherin again?" she idly asked, while putting on the skirt the other girl had just discarded.

"Completely. Living in the land of pure and good heartedness was suffocating, I don't know how you bloody do it."

Daphne laughed before grimacing as a slight twang of pain flashed through her body. When the pain was gone a moment later, so were the features of Daphne Greengrass. Where she once was stood Ginny Weasley.

"You broke my shirt!" she complained, holding the offending garment up.

"It's not my fault you're so flat," Daphne threw back, before winking and leaving the room. "I'm going to repair my reputation," she said as she did.

"Hey!" Ginny shouted, "I didn't do anything bad!"

"Exactly!"


	75. LXXV : Pillow

**LXXV : Pillow**

He knew that some people thought he was unluckier than Harry. Harry's parents had died and he was able to accept that and knew that they would never be back. Neville though, Neville's parents were just insane, there may be hope for them, a cure in the future. So while Harry could move on and accept his lot, Neville was given hope; hope that one day everything would be better.

Year after year of watching his parents see through him, babble nonsense and not respond _at all_ had slowly driven that hope away and replaced it with a, well, Neville didn't quite know what he felt. He didn't want his parents to _die_ but he did wish they had died before on that fateful night.

"_Continual diminishing brain activity."_

"_Less and less movement."_

"_Long-term deterioration." _

When he found out that his parents weren't just insane, they were also slowly _dying_ he immediately felt bad for his darkest desire. As time went on though, and he watched as they began slowing down, talking less, moving less, _being _less, Neville wanted to help. Not just them but him.

He had grown up with tales of his strong parents, his parents that fought the Dark Lord, leaving them to die in this manner just lacked the dignity they_ deserved._

He didn't have to sneak on to the ward, security was pretty lax, and no-one noticed him as he picked up the pillow and hovered with it above his mother's peaceful face. He probably stood there for ten minutes, just standing and hovering.

He never had to make the choice. A nurse began her round, the noise causing him to replace the pillow hurriedly and wait for her to move by.

"_Good evening Mr Longbottom, you're here late, aren't you?"_

"_Yes, I, I couldn't sleep."_

"_It's nice that you come, some people in here don't hardly get any visitors."_

"_That's so sad."_

"_I think people almost take them for granted. At least this way everyone has a chance to say goodbye. It's not pretty, but nothing to do will illness and death is."_

"_Thank you."_

Neville sank down into a chair and watched his parents sleep.

"_I almost killed Mum and Dad."_

"_As did I once."_

"_Why?"_

"_I thought it was best."_

"_Do you still?"_

"_I don't know Neville, I wasn't able to really say yes or no."_

"_Neither was I."_

"_For me it was knowing what they were, I think for it it's knowing what they could have been."_


	76. LXXVI : Free

**LXXVI : Free**

Ginny burst out of the door, the cold air instantly assaulting her naked body. Goose bumps popped up a second later, but were ignored as the adrenaline flooded her bloodstream. Ignoring her bare feet, Ginny ran and ran . . .

. . . down the gravelled drive which laid cuts upon her feet,

. . . over the morning dew wet grass which tempered the burning pain of the cuts,

. . . through the wispy and fragile looking trees which proved their resistance with scratches delivered without mercy,

. . . along the muddy, dirtying bank of the murky river,

. . . into the densely packed wood which tried to bar her way,

. . . out onto the other side, where she was finally away from her captors,

. . . then into his arms again.

"Ginny, Ginny, Ginny," he cruelly cooed. "Surely you've realised by now? You can run and run but you'll never escape me, while I'm around, you'll never be free."


	77. LXXVII : Joy

**LXXVII : Joy**

James flicked his wand from left to right making the toy Snitch follow. Harry was giggling below him on the floor, trying to catch the Snitch but so far failing, his chubby arms flapping everywhere. Suddenly though, Harry stopped.

"What's up champ?" James became worried, Harry never wanted to stop playing with the Snitch. He had never caught it because James didn't want to make it easy, or for Harry to lose interest, and Harry had always cried when he put it away. Harry looked up at him with wide eyes and smiled, James took this as a hint that Harry still wanted to play so he complied and carried on waving his wand around.

"Harry, what's wrong? Are you tired? Hungry? You're hungry? You want your nappy changed? Please don't say you want your nappy changed. Your mum will be home in four hours, you can wait until then can't you? Could you, _please_?"

Harry had been shaking his head at the first questions and merely looked bored when James had started panicking about his nappy. James put his wand down and tentatively picked up his little bundle of joy. He gingerly sniffed Harry's bum, Harry laughed and then farted. Harry's nappy did not need to be changed. James quickly put the _bundle of joy_ down. _'He's a baby, just a baby. A bundle of joy baby. He did not just do that on purpose. Baby. A bundle baby.' _

Harry was still staring at him while James carried on waving the wand, hoping that Harry would start playing again. Eventually James realised that Harry wasn't interested any more so was about to put the Snitch away. Not liking having to give up however, James tried one last time waving the snitch in Harry's face, slowing it down until it was right in front of him, touching his nose. As soon as Harry lifted an arm to catch it James would move it away and hopefully the game would begin again.

Harry smiled. Mischievously. James got nervous. Harry's smiled widened and he opened his mouth.

And ate the Snitch.

* * *

**A/N: May continue this one.**


	78. LXXVIII : Abandoned

**LXXVIII : Abandoned**

Draco and Blaise elegantly descended the ladder that lead to Trelawney's abode.

"That was rather bleak," Blaise commented as they broke away from the masses and walked on towards Charms.

"I know. I almost feel . . ."

"Speechless?"

Draco emitted a short laugh. "Yeah, speechless. After all, there are only so many depressing predictions one can hear before starting to get worried. I don't know, this must have been the arrow that broke the centaur's back."

"_Oh no, oh no, oh no! Mr Malfoy!"_

"_Yes professor? More heartless love and devouring penguins?"_

"_Oh no, much much worse! You will live a very long life, so very long-"_

"_-That doesn't sound terribly bad."_

"_-A life filled with nothing."_

"_Nothing?"_

"_No love, no companion, no family. You will die alone Mr Malfoy at the end of such a long life. All your friends will leave you, your girlfriends will find someone else, and you shall never have a loving wife or father a child. You will die old, bitter and loveless. You will be abandoned."_

"Still, it is Trelawney," Blaise lightly remarked.

"Ah, yes, yes it was," Draco mused. "She does have a preference for melodramatics." Draco tutted. "Daft cow."


	79. LXXIX : Tower

**LXXIX : Tower**

"Ginevra, Ginevra, let down your hair!"

Ginny was woken by the calls at her window. Flicking the candle lamp on, her eyes blinked rapidly against the sudden harsh light.

"Ginevra, Ginevra, let down your hair!"

Confused, Ginny flipped back the covers and left her bed. Reaching the window, she unbolted it and opened it wide. Peering down she saw what - or rather who – had been making all the noise.

"Draco!" she hissed, surprised and slightly irritated. "What are you doing? It's gone midnight!"

"Ginevra, Ginevra, my fair maiden up high, whilst thou let down your hair so I canst climb up your tower?"

Draco stood proudly in his plain white blouse and mauve breeches.

"What on earth are you wearing?" Ginny asked through the giggles.

"My parents' were having a themed soiree, terribly clichéd but all the rage on the continent apparently. Well? Can I come up?"

"If my parents find you here . . ." she let the threat go unexplained.

"I'll leave before the sun arrives," he promised solemnly. "Now, will you let me in? I'm bloody freezing."

* * *

**A/N: For Karla. **

**She knows why. :P**


	80. LXXX : Waiting

**LXXX : Waiting**

They reappeared in the apparition zone of the DoMLE where Ginny promptly released Draco and ordered him to follow her.

At her arrival into command room the people milling around had paused and on seeing her with Draco the tension in the room lessened slightly; only slightly as there was still fighting going on.

Ginny lead Draco through room towards the elevator that would take them down to the training barracks.

"We go down to the department's Healer; none of this has gotten out yet and we want to keep it quiet, taking you to Mungos would lead to questions."

When the reached the Healer, Ginny left Draco in their care and left shortly after.

"Anything hurting Mr Malfoy?" the Healer inquired while scanning him over.

"Nothing hurts, it's just the scratches."

"Right, we'll deal with those and then we'll . . ."

**XxX**

"I don't know what they did Harry, but he's not being Malfoy-like."

Ginny and Harry were sat in the latter's office, and were discussing the night which had lead onto Draco.

"What d'you mean Ginny?" Harry asked, without pausing from his paperwork.

Ginny leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk. "He was . . . quiet, easy, just, not the Malfoy we know."

"He could've mellowed with age," he pointed out.

"I think the ritual did something to him," Ginny declared, "something strange; someone should keep an eye on him."

"Speaking of which, where is he now?"

"I left him with the Healers about," Ginny checked her watch, " . . . an hour an' a half ago. Crap."

"You left him waiting? Shit Ginny, he's a friend of the Minister's!" Harry waved his hand, causing the door to swing open. "I tasked you with him, go and sort him out!"

Without another word Ginny rose and left the room. She was annoyed at the mild rebuke but knew she deserved it a little bit.

**XxX**

"I'm so glad you took it upon yourself to remember me," Draco drawled at the new arrival.

Ginny hid her blush and through clenched teeth apologised.

"Apology accepted, after all you did help me out of a tight situation." As Draco stood and patted his robes down, Ginny noticed someone had brought him some and snidely wondered how he could stand the poor quality.

"Follow behind me," she ordered and Draco easily complied.

_'Those robes do highlight her derrière quite delightfully,'_ he thought with a smirk as he trailed behind.

* * *

**A/N: It resembles an ending to Varc.**


	81. LXXXI : Blood

**LXXXI : Blood**

The blood followed the curved line of her arm, slowly descending and leaving a red trail in its wake. It caressed her fingers before reaching the tips and pooling. She couldn't see her fingers but she felt the heaviness leave them as the ruby droplets fell unhurriedly off her digits.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The sound of the beads as they fractured on the floor was the only other sound she could hear, other than that of her breathing. Her shallow lazy inhalations pierced the silence of the cold room.

The solid acceptance which had kept her from struggling started to slink away from her and with it the strength which had held her head high. As the strength diminished the sluggish weight of her head sank into her shoulder and rested there. The dull pain should have felt keen and sharp, but as the minutes past it waned, as the hours past it became hazy and as the days past it became a distant memory of pain, coolly endured.

He sat in the same chair he had rested in after every session of play, calmly watching her twisted body. The only time he left the chair was to leave the room or to rearrange the artwork of her body, casually turning an arm from one angle to another, regarding her face with a detached interest as glimpse of the sting fled across her visage.

He had lowered one of her arms and one of her legs back to a resting place against her body. Previously, her arms and legs had been spread, her body creating a star with her limbs. The rope around her neck had been relaxed, allowing her to lean her head to the side, before this her head had been pinned to the wall, the crumbling shards of the wall digging into the soft skin of her neck, stabbing, poking,gnawing.

She didn't fight after the second week. There was no point, none at all. The only thing left was pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.


	82. LXXXII : Silence

**LXXXII : Silence**

In the moments that followed, the house fell into silence. Harry stared up at his father, waiting for his response, and James was quiet as he thought of one.

James was gobsmacked and worried until he remembered that Harry was a baby and could therefore not swallow a snitch without causing himself a lot of trouble. The first crisis averted, James dropped down to the floor to be at Harry's level. He watched with shock as the Snitch seemingly move from one side to the other, causing Harry's cheeks to expand in turn.

Not having time to continue watching, James got straight to business.

"Open your mouth Harry."

Harry shook his head.

"No? Harry open your mouth for Daddy. Please? Harry, if you don't Mummy will hurt Daddy, do you understand Harry? Mummy will give Daddy a baddie and she won't kiss it better."

Harry's eyes grew large, almost with shock. James, feeling that he was on the right path, continued.

"She'll make Daddy sad, she'll make me cry. Do you understand Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"So you'll open your mouth for Daddy? Like a good boy."

Harry disagreed.

"No? But, but . . . Harry you've seen her, she'll use the pan again! Do you wanted to see that again?"

Harry, who had been concentrating on the floor, slowly looked up to his father. He tilted his head sideways as if contemplating something and then, slowly but surely, nodded.

James was flabbergasted.

"But, Harry- your my, I mean . . ." While James was stuttering in confusion, shock and _hurt_ the door to the house had been opened, closed and had admitted a member of the family, who was family in all but blood and name.

"Did someone say Sirius Black?"

**A/N: Carried of from 'Joy.'**


	83. LXXXIII : Noise

**LXXXIII : Noise**

The lack of noise was the first indicator that something wasn't right. Usually there would be some calls from birds, rustling as small animals wandered the land and the noise of water in the river trickling down over the mini-waterfall that was just behind the house.

There was none of these noises.

I wanted to rush into the house straight away, and confront the problem, but sense prevailed and logic set in.

Casting a simple but thorough invisibility spell over myself I stalked forward, every sense on high alert.

I couldn't see anyone in the vicinity and after casting a plethora of detection spells at the walkway determined there were no traps.

Cautiously moving forward, the only sign of my presence was the small trail of bent grass I left in my wake.

Pushing carefully against the door I readied myself for a fight.

The door swung open to reveal . . . nothing. Nothing not of the norm, everything was in its place as far as I could tell. I moved through the house, clearing every room – Auror training kicking in.

I eventually reached the garden, and found the source of the lack of noise.

Luna and Lysander stood in the middle of the garden, noiselessly talking.

"Luna?" I called out, and was immediately worried when I couldn't hear myself.

Luna wordlessly handed me a slip of paper.

_We were trying out a silencing field but seem to have made a mistake. _

She took the paper away from me and scribbled another note on it.

_Are you staying for tea Harry?_


	84. LXXXIV : Standing Still

**LXXXIV : Standing Still**

For some of us, war was the point where our lives started standing still, when the only aim for the day was to survive it. I wasn't like that, my life stopped moving after the war.

People like me, when you get down to it, were fuck ups. We were the people who couldn't survive in peace. So used to looking over our shoulders, spells on the tips of our lips and paranoid enough to trust no-one but ourselves.

We used to rule the world when death was around the corner.

Instead the world was now ruled by people who put arms around another's shoulders, smiling for a photo. Ruled by those with silver words at the end of their tongues and people who were able to get everyone to trust them.

The fighters had done their job and now the politicians moved in.

The public didn't easily forget about us though. They weren't comfortable with us still roaming around with no real purpose. The politicians realised we were a sore point; they couldn't just leave us, we had to be classified and filed away. So they classified us as crazy and filed us into this single plain room. This timeless room where our surroundings reflected what was happening inside of us. We were empty, never changing or feeling.

It wasn't how we should be, I think we all knew that, but there's a difference between knowing it and wanting to change it. I embraced the stillness.

Revealed in it.

"My name is Daphne Greengrass. My father tried to stay neutral in the war but this resulted in the Dark Lord kidnapping my sister and I in order to force him to comply with his wishes. My father eventually agreed after I was raped in front of him. Two weeks before the end of the war I stabbed to death the man who did it."

I fucking hate meet and greets.

* * *

**A/N: My name is Sarah, and I'm guilty of reusing oddments I already have floating around. This ought to be a 'proper' story, but I haven't had the time for it. **

**Punish me how you will, I regret nothing!**


	85. LXXXV : Treasure

**LXXXV : Treasure**

After recovering from her near death experience, Ginny and the rest of the team made quick work of the magic induced disappearing floor before taking on the rest of the pyramid's puzzles and traps.

It was all worth it though when they finally reached the centre and broke the seal on the door.

"This is it Weasley, more treasure than you've ever seen in your life." Although he had turned into her rescuer, Draco Malfoy's attitude hadn't subsequently improved and he was still a smarmy git.

"Shut it Malfoy," Ginny shot back, too excited to take offence to his mild prod.

A moment later and the door dissolved, giving them their first view of the famed treasure of King Tutucaboom.

"Ten percent for all of us, right?" Ginny asked mildly.

"Right," Draco affirmed, before gulping back his urge to pinch himself. "That's a lot of gold."

"Pocket change to you though Malfoy, right?" she weakly dug.

"Nah, this is more like two pockets," he returned.


	86. LXXXVI : Mother Nature

**LXXXVI : Mother Nature**

"'Mother Nature, sometimes known as Mother Earth, is a common personification of nature that focuses on the life-giving and nurturing features of nature by embodying it in the form of the mother.'"

"Still sounds like Muggle crap to me," Draco stubbornly stated.

"Draco! This may not be right, but it's a different viewpoint, you should consider it even if you don't like who it's came from," Hermione chided.

"Hermione, if a wizard came out with this rubbish I'd call him an idiot. I'm not always prejudice you know, sometimes something can be crap because it is, not because it's Muggle. And I'm getting better, when was the last time I made a derogatory comment about Muggles?"

"You're only on your best behaviour when I'm around," she pointed out.

"True," he agreed, "I do have to stay in your good books. Speaking of," Draco took the book out of Hermione's lap and let it drop to the floor. Before she had a chance to tell him off for possibly harming a book he stopped her lips by kissing her.

He meet resistance at first, as she knew full well what he was doing, but soon she gave in.

"Oh," she moaned, "do we have to wait for Ginny to get home?"

"You know how pouty she gets if we start without her," Draco said, stopping Hermione's roaming hands.

Hermione sighed and ceased roaming. "Fine, but if she's a minute late, we start without her."

"Deal."


	87. LXXXVII : Obsession

**LXXXVII : Obsession**

"Luna," Neville wheezes, coming into the opening behind the blonde haired witch, "this obsession with Nargles is going to kill me." He falls to the floor, the three hour hike sapping him of all his energy. Not that he had much after their 'activities' last night, if you catch my drift.

Personally I feel really sorry for Neville, having to follow this crazy witch he loves around the world. Her with an obsession for mythical creatures, and him with an obsession for her. Those sorts of things lead to all kinds of problems.

In Neville's case it looks like it's going to be a heart problem.

Neville lies back, catching his breath and is completely ignored by Luna who is staring off at the other end of the opening, looking at- oh.

Neville sits up and catches sight of 'em too.

"We found them Neville," Luna announces simply. "I knew there were Nargles here."

Alright, so maybe obsessions can be good occasionally.


	88. LXXXVIII : Magic

**LXXXVIII : Magic**

The wisps of palely coloured trails flowed out of the wand, wrapping themselves around the air and dancing through the room. He twisted his wand and the streams redirected their efforts, and surrounded the large Christmas tree in the corner of the room. Flittering over the branches and swarming over the ornaments, the magic coated the tree in a translucent glow before a quick slash of the wand cut the tie and the streams fell to the ground, dissolving as they did so.

"Oh," Ginny sighed. "That was beautiful. What was it?"

Draco regarded her with shock. "That's the first time you've seen that?" he harshly demanded.

Taken back, Ginny could only reply with, "Yes."

"That's pure magic Ginny! At least one of your parents should have performed that on the Christmas tree! It promises a season of good will and cheer!"

"They never did it, you know how they don't like the Pureblood traditions." Ginny felt the old family honour rise up and tried to defend her parents. It was a weak defence though, when she realised that they had kept such a thing from her.

"I've never seen magic like that."

"You wouldn't have," Draco explained. "Spells have a specific colour, but pure magic has none so it is all, and you don't need intent like you do when casting spells, so the magic is more relaxed."

"It's amazing."

"Magic is amazing, pure magic is something else."


	89. LXXXIX : Multitasking

**LXXXIX : Multitasking**

Ginny dumped the files on to the desk while pouring two cups of coffee. As soon as one hand was free, it was picking up a pen and signing renewal forms, or typing out a letter, or looking up a reference, or fielding calls from disgruntled workers, or waving hello to an early boyfriend.

"One sec Draco, I'll be done in a minute."

She didn't get a response as he was simply staring at her haze of movement.

"What?" she snapped.

"What are you doing?" he asked in awe.

"Multitasking. It's what you do when you're underpaid, overworked and don't have a trust fund to fall back on." The barb was brushed off, and Draco took the tactful approach.

"I'll go and wait outside, shall I?"


	90. XC : Relaxation

**XC : Relaxation**

The bath was filled with warm water and ringed by tiny flickering candles. Ginny laid in the bath, her hair tied up and piled on top of her head, a book in hand, and bubbles up to her chin.

After another stressful week at work, her relaxing bath was personal time she had before Draco arrived home.

Topping up the bath with a bit more hot water, Ginny dropped the book onto the floor and closed her eyes, surrendering to her thoughts.

Just as she was dropping off, the door was flung open and Draco ran in, unzipping his trousers and making for the toilet.

"Draco!" Ginny screeched, sitting up in the bath and causing water to spill over the sides.

"Ginny!" Draco cried with equal surprise, but continued his action, unable to stop.

"Stop it! Get out!" Ginny demanded but to no avail.

"Ginny we've lived together for two years, surely you can handle this? We've reached this stage, haven't we?"

"I am not talking to you while I am trying to relax in the bath and you are holding yourself and urinating!"

Shaking himself, Draco finished and zipped his trousers up. "I'll wait for you outside then, shall I?" he tersely asked.

"I won't be long, it's hard to relax after that!"


	91. XCI : In The Eye Of The Storm

**XCI : In The Eye Of The Storm**

I liked to call the time they came for me as being in the eye of the storm. We had been through the first wave, the actual war, then we had the calm, and then came the time where they were in control of us, our second wave. This time the war they wanted us to win was against ourselves.

I thought their idea was the silliest and most demanding thing they could have ever though of. Why would I fight against myself? Especially if I didn't think there was anything wrong with me.

My second 'fight' began immediately after I was taken into custody. They came for me just after we had finished eating. The house elf popped into the dining room, scaring my mother who dropped her spoon into her bowl of soup and splashing some onto her navy dress. This earned the creature a glare from my father which didn't leave his face as he questioned the thing.

"What is it?" he asked brusquely.

"Pointy's being sorrys sir for inruptings but there is beings Aurors waiting for youse sir," the thing stammered, it's face glued to the floor as it was trained to.

At this point I had put my cutlery down and was watching. My father paled slightly, he was worried this day would arrive. The day when he was arrested for his crimes.

He left the room without another word, leaving my mother and I waiting.

It wasn't long before he returned, followed by two Aurors. I glanced over them, they were both tall and pale with dark brown hair and pale blue eyes. Twins.

I expect my father to tell us that he would be leaving, and that I would then spend the rest of the evening comforting my crying mother.

"My name is Pansy Parkinson. I did nothing during the war but carried on with life as usual."

I didn't expect to spend my in a holding cell, awaiting a physiological examination. Apparently the ministry didn't think it was normal for a person to be so unaffected.

Thus began the second storm.


	92. XCII : In The Moment

**XCII : In The Moment**

"Ginny!" Ron yelled at his sister as she shamefully entered the common room.

All stopped to watch the shouting match.

"Ron, it wasn't my fault! I was just, in the moment!"

"In the moment? You were in Draco Malfoy's sodding mouth, that's where you were!"

"I needed his help!"

"Why? Did you have something stuck in your tooth?"

"I was bright blue! It was a bloody prank and I needed a Slytherin to kiss me to cancel it."

"And you choose Malfoy? You would never have been that desperate!"

"He wasn't the closest! I didn't check to see who it was, I just grabbed and kissed."

"You should have . . ."

Harry turned to Hermione and they both shared a look. "They're going to be at this for a while, do you want to head to dinner?" Harry offered.

"Sure," Hermione sighed.


	93. XCIII : Innocent

**XCIII : Innocent**

The bitter chilly air whipped through the air, having no effect on the boat but slapping the face of anyone not under the boat's meagre cover. Back and forth it ran, never teasing with its caresses but always cruel with its blows. Lifting the water up it threatened to pull the boat under, into the cold clutches of the water and a painful slow death. Only the strongly constructed wards kept its malice intent away.

The little boat's journey was long and treacherous but, despite the appearance of the vessel, it was well protected however unnerving the ride was. It determinedly rode the waves with a perseverance and unexpected grace; rolling with the waters and working with them instead of against.

This was lost on the five occupiers, all who were thinking of other, more important, things; they only jumped to attention as the distance between them and their destination disappeared and the tall, grey – imposing – building rose up before them.

The boat lurched through the breakers, the final hurdle before reaching the safer calm waters, before gently floating into the port.

Knocking softly against the wooden pier the boat came to a stop as a rope was hooked over a holding shaft and drew it in.

Two of the passengers strode to the back of the resting boat and hoisted another passenger up and pushed him forward.

Sirius stumbled at the sudden force, but didn't throw a glare their way, or snap out an insult like he usually would have; his mind was too filled with horror and guilt filled thoughts. In his mind he was guilty of everything they charged him with – except the Death Eater part.

In his eyes – and theirs – he was guilty, and so he numbly went to the place where no innocence lies.


	94. XCIV : Trouble Lurking

**XCIV : Trouble Lurking**

They swam about in the lake, unaware of what was happening below them.

The Headmaster peered out of his office window and took the image in. With surprising speed for his age, he sprinted out of his office and head to the lake.

"Minevra!" he called out, as he noticed her on the way. "Students in the lake! Thought you ought to know!"

Rushing out together they made short work of the distance between the door and lake.

The students noticed the teachers and shortly left the lake, pulling clothes on before they were yelled at semi-naked by their ageing teachers.

"Morris! Bisk! Swimming in the lake is strictly forbidden! You know this and I expect better from you . . ." Allowing his deputy to lead the students away and deal with their punishment, Albus Dumbledore knelt down by the water's edge.

"I'm very sorry, I will make sure it doesn't happen again and I'll have Hagrid bring along some treats for you." Tipping his pouch of lemon drops into the water he backed away slowly. On his way up to the castle he made a detour to Hagrid's to discuss extra lake security.

Under the water, shadowy figures headed towards the lake and collected the fallen sweets. Popping them in their mouth's, they returned to their deep depths, hoping not to be bothered again.


	95. XCV : Working Together

**XCV : Working Together**

"I'm telling you Draco, if go left we'll just end up going in a circle."

"Well if we go right we'll also keep going in a circle."

"So we have to go straight on."

"Yes," he grudgingly agreed.

"And we'll have to work together," Ginny pointed out.

"Yes, yes, what do we have to do?" Draco snapped, eager to get the test over.

"We need to cross that molten pit over there. If I cast the freezing spell, you can hold it under a Statis as we cross. Then we'll have to work our way through that flesh eating hedge, if you . . ."

Working together and their considerable skills meant the couple made quick work of the maze, and reached the centre seemingly before anyone else.

When they other combatants arrived they were cut, disfigured, hexed and cursed . . . no one had escaped without something wrong happening.

The teacher was over the moon. "Our fine example! Working together Mr Malfoy and Miss Weasley managed to make the trip unscathed! This is what you should be aiming for! To be a good partner you need to be trusted by your fellow Aurors!" His speech continued, spinning praise for the two, oblivious of the cadets' annoyance.

"He seems to have forgotten that the message in the war was trust no-one," Draco dryly commented and despite herself, Ginny cracked a smile.


	96. XCVI : World

**XCVI : World**

_'Nous allons vivre à l'annonce de cinq minutes'_

The channel is flicked.

_'Die Aufregung ist unbeschreiblich, sind Menschen, die die Straßen säumen'_

Flicked again.

_'A chi si farà? Nessuno lo sa!'_

Flicked again.

_'All over the world people are tuning in to watch the announcement of the new President of the United Magical States of America. There's nowhere else to be right now!'_

"Bloody Americans are so up themselves. 'People all over the world are tuning in for this historic event!'" Draco mimicked the chirpy American's accent with disgust.

"Well who do you think it will be?" Ginny asked neutrally.

"Pontic of course," Draco immediately replied.

"I thought you didn't care?"

"Ginny, as the Minister of Magic I have to care. I just don't like to."


	97. XCVII : Marriage

**XCVII : Marriage**

A hush descended among the guests and the man stood up and raised his glass.

"It's been fifty years now since that special day. There haven't always been easy times,"

_Grief racked her body as she collapsed to the ground and cried and screamed for all she was worth. "Dad! Dad! No, nonono," her stricken voice repeated his name over and over along with denials. He held her as best he could._

"peaceful times,"

"_Horenzo!" he yelled at a Death Eater who was stupid enough to reveal himself. He saw the man stiffen and fall, and turned to find his next target. She was half sitting, half lying against what was a tall stone wall; blood flowed from a wound on her hip and her foot twisted at an unnatural angle. _

"_Draco?" she harshly whispered._

"_Ginny, I need to watch them Love," he responded not taking his eyes off his opponents protective barrier. _

"_I love you."_

"_Ginny we **will** survive this. I promise."_

"but they've been offset by the fun times,"

"_Let me down Draco!" Ginny squealed as Draco levitated her around the room. _

"_Apologise!" he demanded. He would have more weight if he weren't laughing as he said it._

"_I'm sorry, I'm sorry all right?" Ginny yelled as she spun upside down._

"_I suppose I can forgive you."_

"and the happy times,"

"_She looks so beautiful." Ginny watched as her daughter stood to cut her cake with her new husband. "She's officially gone now Draco."_

"_She'll always be ours Ginny. She'll be visiting all the time, it will be like she never moved out."_

"_How can you be so sure? They'll probably spend all their time together."_

"_I made sure," Draco said simply._

"_Oh Draco," Ginny sighed, "you didn't threaten John did you? Not **again**."_

"but when that's all said and done, they're here. Through the thick and the thin, war and peace, children and grandchildren, rich and richer . . . well, that was never going to change, was it?" A slight disapproving titter was raised by the older section of the audience, but the man merely grinned.

"I'd like you to raise your glasses in a toast to fifty years of marriage that still stands strong today." He turned to his parents. "Mum, Dad, you're role-models for all of us to follow. Except at Monopoly," turning back to the crowd he explained, "he's really competitive at that game, sore loser too."

Draco glared at his son who laughed and lifted his glass higher and calling, "To Draco and Ginny Malfoy," before throwing it back and jumping off the stage.

"He's thirty four and still acts like a child," Draco growled.

Ginny smiled. "It's what you get from asking the youngest one to give the speech."


	98. XCVIII : Fighting

**XCVIII : Fighting**

They called it a support group. What they _didn't _say was the important bit. If we didn't stay then there would be no place for us in the Wizarding World. Jobs would become unavailable if we inquired, houses would suddenly be withdrawn from the market, partnerships would be dissolved due to 'differences in company policies.' They would slowly cut us off until the only place we had to go was another country. Let someone else deal with us.

It shouldn't have been too hard for me to survive that existence. I had plenty of money, no need to do business with anyone else.

They had thought of that though, must have hired someone clever for once. New laws were rushed in that basically made our rights - my right - to my inheritance null and void. Only after war could such drastic and demeaning laws be forced through as even the Wizengamot was worried about us it seemed.

I don't think my examination convinced them they were wrong about me.

_"So Mr Zabini, back to the scenario. A man has just sent a spell your way. What do you do?"_

_"Start with something to defend myself with, so a shield, then I'd move onto immobilising the assailant. I'd most likely break one of his legs, he'd be down but still conscious. I would then approach with care and disarm him. After that I would make sure the area we were in was secure before questioning him-"_

It's a shame the government became liberal with their use of Veritserum after the war.

"My name is Blaise Zabini. My mother was held hostage so the Dark Lord would have access to our libraries. As the war went on he sent me on scouting missions, we soon discovered that I was good at that and the missions increased. I was part of the group that did the scout on the Ministry where we were able to access it and gain entrance to the Minister's War Room. I personally handed over the Ministry's plans for an attack on a Dark Lord safe house to the Dark Lord. In return he granted my mother her freedom."

I am a fighter, a survivor. I adapt, I plot, I plan and I succeed. Yes, a war wasn't what I wanted to excel at, but it's what I _had to _do if I wanted to survive. I wasn't fighting for the Dark Lord, I was fighting for me.

As the questioning went on the examiners became more and more wide-eyed and took pages of notes. I think it was my answer about what I would do if I was dealing with an uncooperative member of the public that sealed my fate.

I must give myself points for imagination though.


	99. XCIX : The Time of My Life

**XCIX : The Time of My Life**

**(I was listening to the song at the time.)**

The softly twinkling light lit the room with an calm and gently glow, casting shadows at the edges of the room and leaving the centre an area of mysterious twilight. In the middle couples danced, graceful moving around each other, fluidly dancing their own private dances.

The flickering candles caught the shimmering material of the dress as she twirled with a practised ease before being drawn into her partner's embrace.

The oldest couple dancing, surrounded by children half their age, they were the object of jealous glances; a couple so old but still in love, enviable to all present.

"It's been fun, hasn't it?" he teasingly asked, though she detected the almost miss-able seriously tone that laced his seemingly innocent question.

"Draco," she whispered, moving in even closer til the distance between them was negligible, "I've had the time of my life." Rising up on her toes, her mouth brushed his cheek as she continued, "And I owe it all to you."

**A/N: I had to do it. **


	100. C : Old

**C : Old**

The room is bathed in the late afternoon sunshine that floats in through the open windows and gently warms the place. Ginny is sitting in the midst of the light, her head resting against the side wing of the armchair as she dozes. Her abandoned book lies on her lap, waiting patiently for her to return to it.

Draco watches as she sleeps, leaning against the mantelpiece and watching her easy breaths move in and out. His straight platinum hair falls around his face despite his attempts to restrain it and, from his young,unmarked face, his waiting eyes never move from the woman's figure.

Time passes but he does not grow tired, or move from his vigil, and the sun all but disappears behind the trees that line the house. A still warm air sweeps through the room and the sudden movement startles her awake.

She looks around with confusion before she catches sight of the open windows and realises she fell asleep. Smiling at her own lapse she goes to move but her eyes fix in on him.

"Draco?" she asks, confused.

"Hello Ginny," he quietly responds, stepping forward and kneeling before her.

Ginny tentatively reached out a hand a caressed his cheek, sighing at the familiarity. "You've came back," she says as Draco takes hold of her hands and lifts her up.

"For you," he replies.

"You look so young," she murmurs, tightening her grasp as if to stop him from leaving.

He merely smiles and kisses her softly on the lips. "We're going Gin." He gently tugs her along and she looks back at her resting body. It still lies there, her head resting against the side and the book still lying on her lap.

"I've missed you Draco. I wish we never had to say goodbye."

"Where we're going Gin, there's no more goodbyes."


	101. Note

**Hi, just to let you know I'm expanding some of these drabbles into one-shots/chaptered stories. **

**So far Taste (#67) has been turned into a one-shot called Faults and Red (#18) is going to be a chaptered story called . . . Red. **

**Thanks for all the reviews for the story, I hope you've enjoyed it and enjoy the expansions. **


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